


all my luck could change

by sawitinhereyes



Category: General Hospital
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 76,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22430797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawitinhereyes/pseuds/sawitinhereyes
Summary: she could've handled leaving home on her own. it would've been difficult, and she still would have been terrified, but everything was made a thousand times more complicated by the fact that she was carrying a child. a child that needed to be kept as secret as possible, for as long as possible. // a willow-kept-the-baby AU. chase/willow.
Relationships: Harrison Chase/Willow Tait
Kudos: 5





	1. forget the lies we used to live

**Author's Note:**

> a little background: Willow never gave up her baby for adoption. Brad & Lucas adopted another little boy around the same time and named him Wiley, which is why he's also in this story. Michael & Nelle's son died in childbirth. most of this follows the same timeline as GH, beginning october 2018 and finishing with the Nurse's Ball in may 2019, then the epilogue in july 2019.
> 
> story title is from "need the sun to break" by james bay.  
> chapter title is from "heartbreak world" by matt nathanson.
> 
> as usual,  
> { I own nothing }  
> and any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show and is credited to the writers. :-)

… … …

He’s been asked a few times over the last few years when he knew he wanted to be a detective. Honestly, he never really knows how to answer that question, because it’s not necessarily something he ever consciously decided. He’s always felt like he was destined for a career in law enforcement, and it was never something he questioned. Others questioned him, for sure, especially when he decided to join the police force right out of high school instead of following his peers down the college route. It would have been easy for him to second-guess himself, but every choice he’s made leading up to this point has just felt right.

It’s something he thinks about frequently, actually; how trusting his own instincts has led him almost flawlessly to this point in his life. Save for a Nelle-sized lapse in judgment that almost cost him his career, following his gut has rarely steered him wrong. Honestly, he’s one of those people who believes everything happens for a reason, so even his (very, very) wrong decisions have played their own role in leading him to this point. He wouldn’t say he has no regrets, but he would say that he wouldn’t change a thing.

Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true. He’s proud of where he stands career-wise, but there are other things missing in his life, he’ll admit. His relationship with his brother could use some work (though it’s not for lack of trying on his part), and he could maybe stand to make a friend or two outside of Michael Corinthos and his acquaintances on the force. Not to mention that despite the wealth of beautiful women in Port Charles, his luck in the romance department has been sorely lacking. He blames it on his job, mostly; a detective’s long and irregular hours are not very conducive to a flourishing social (read: dating) life.

But honestly, he doesn’t mind the long hours, not really. His aforementioned lack of social life means that he spends most nights ordering takeout, nursing a beer and watching the Sox game in his apartment. Alone. (It sounds more depressing than it is. Really. It’s not actually that pathetic.)

(Okay, it actually _is_ that pathetic.)

It’s not like he _wants_ to meet with the medical examiner at seven o’clock on a Thursday evening. He could have knocked off and gone home when his shift ended an hour ago, but this meeting was related to a case he’s been assigned to, and he’s never been one to shirk his duties when he’s called upon. It’s not like he has anything better to do, anyway.

It’s eight-thirty by the time he’s leaving GH, and now that he’s officially off the clock, he lets his mind wander as the elevator carries him down to the parking garage. He had Charlie’s for dinner last night, he muses, so it might be better to order from Kelly’s. Oh, but he’s pretty partial to the Floating Rib, too. Yes, he could definitely go for some wings. A quick glance at his phone informs him the Sox are already getting killed tonight, so he won’t rush home to watch the game. Maybe he’ll browse the on-demand movie selection he never gets to enjoy, see if there’s anything worth watching.

He exits the elevator and happens to spot her as he’s headed toward his car. There’s a black sedan parked in a restricted area, and it looks as though the driver might be… asleep? Drunk? _Dead_? Surely not, he scoffs, shaking his head. Maybe living in Port Charles has made him a little bit dramatic. And paranoid.

But like he said, he’s learned to trust his instincts, and something’s not right here.

Technically, he’s off the clock. Technically, parking violations are too trivial for a detective. But Detective Harrison Chase doesn’t live his life according to technicalities.

“ _Miss_?” he calls, rapping his knuckles against her window.

She startles immediately, her eyes wide. “ _What?!_ ” she yells.

He narrows his eyes, immediately suspicious. He tries not to make a habit of passing judgment on people he’s never met, but she doesn’t seem intimidated by his presence, and she doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. In fact, he’d describe her reaction as overly defensive. _Suspiciously_ defensive. He’d planned to simply ask her to move her car, but now, he thinks the situation might warrant a more thorough investigation.

“ _Step out of the vehicle, miss,_ ” he requests firmly.

“ _Get away from my car, freak!_ ”

His eyes widen in surprise, and he almost wants to laugh. He doesn’t think he’s been called a freak since, like, elementary school. Thankfully, he has a pretty damn good poker face, honed with years of practice, and he keeps his composure intact. It’s easy, really, because she’s on track to turn a routine parking violation into something involving a lot more paperwork.

He narrows his eyes, annoyance simmering to the surface. “ _I’m not going to ask you again._ ”

Her reaction is almost immediate. She honks her horn repeatedly, screaming like a maniac. Something about being harassed.

His eyes widen incredulously. “ _Whoa, whoa, lady, I’m a cop!”_ He knocks on her window again, and she turns her attention back to him, her eyes flashing dangerously. “ _I’m a cop_ ,” he repeats.

Now it’s her turn to narrow her eyes at him. “ _If you’re a cop, where’s your uniform?_ ”

She raises her eyebrows, challenging him, and he has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He can honestly say he’s never had someone question his legitimacy as a law enforcement officer, even without a uniform. She might be the most skeptical, distrustful person he’s ever met. And he was personally involved with _Nelle Benson_ , so that’s saying something.

“ _I’m a detective_ ,” he explains.

“ _Oh, okay,”_ she deadpans. “ _Listen, Sherlock, either you make tracks or I will -_ _right over you._ ”

And okay, he supposes he can understand why she’s skeptical, why she’s clearly wary of him. It’s late, and she’s alone, and unfortunately, in the world they live in, this is a situation in which she has every right to question him. Now is not the time to intimidate her; she needs proof that he’s one of the good guys.

“ _Okay, look_ ,” he sighs. He stands up, moves his jacket aside to reveal his badge, thankfully still hooked to his belt. “ _Here’s my shield, alright?_ ”

“ _Your shield?”_ She all but scoffs at him. “ _Who do you think you are, Captain America? Besides, how do I know that’s real?”_

He takes a deep breath, reminds himself that she’s entitled to question him, exhales to disguise his frustration. “ _If you call the station, you can verify my identity_ ,” he assures her. “ _Go ahead, I’ll wait._ ”

He pushes away from her car while she does just that. He rests his hands on his hips, hangs his head tiredly. He almost wishes he’d just walked right by and never noticed her sitting there. It would’ve saved him a whole lot of time and a massive splitting headache, and he would probably be leaving the Floating Rib with his takeout by now.

But then he turns his attention back to her, watches as she nods, her hands gesturing wildly as she speaks into her phone. He may be a cop, but he’s also a man with eyes, and he’s allowed to recognize that she is gorgeous. A beautiful face, big green eyes with some serious fire behind them. She’s not intimidated by him one bit, and as much hassle as it’s causing him, he has to admit that he kind of likes it. She looks almost deflated now, as she hangs up the phone, and she seems nervous, wary. He wonders, absentmindedly, what happened in her past that jaded her view of cops, or even of people in general.

(Sometimes being a detective is a blessing and a curse.)

She finally steps out of the car, crosses her arms in front of her. She’s clearly not happy with him, but at least she believes him now. “ _You check out, Detective Harrison Chase_.”

She seems so disgruntled that he almost finds himself amused. He’s fairly certain at this point that she’s not intoxicated, or drugged, or whatever else he thought at first glance, but he still feels the need to thoroughly assess the situation, just in case. He pulls a pen out of his jacket pocket, holds it straight up in front of him. “ _Track my pen with your eyes. Do not move your head._ ”

“ _Are you serious?_ ” she mutters incredulously, annoyance simmering to the surface. She follows his instructions, flawlessly, and then sighs. “ _What did I do wrong?_ ”

Ah. Finally. A question with a simple answer. “ _You’re parked in a spot designated for authorized vehicles only._ ”

“ _Oh, I guess I did_.” Clearly, she doesn’t see any sort of significance in her infraction. “ _Look, I’m sorry, officer._ ”

“ _Detective,_ ” he corrects, almost reflexively. He can’t help it, okay? He worked hard for that title.

She’s not phased. “ _I was… preoccupied_.”

“ _You were asleep,_ ” he argues.

“ _That’s illegal?_ ”

“ _It is when you’re drunk and parked in a spot for authorized vehicles_.” Maybe accusing her of being intoxicated was a cheap shot, but he’s having a hard time keeping his cool at this point. _“Please walk a line, heel to toe.”_

She sighs in exasperation, but she complies with his orders, her heeled boots clicking across the concrete. Her balance kind of sucks, he muses, but she’s definitely not drunk. “ _I wasn’t sleeping_ ,” she insists.

He almost scoffs. “ _What, you were just resting your eyes?_ ”

“ _I was taking a moment!”_ She whirls around to face him, and if he weren’t so damn tired, he might actually enjoy how frustrated she is with him. Her fists are clenched by her sides, and he’s honestly surprised she hasn’t stomped her foot. She exhales in annoyance. “ _I’m not drunk_.”

“ _Good_.” He steps back, gestures toward her vehicle. “ _Then if you’ll just move your car_.”

“ _Gladly_.” She rolls her eyes and huffs as she stalks toward her car, climbs inside. She rolls down the window as she closes her door and attempts to crank the key.

Nothing.

“ _Any day now._ ” Okay, now he’s just being a jerk. But he really is exhausted, and if she’d just moved her car to begin with, they wouldn’t still be here, both clearly annoyed, wasting valuable time and energy.

She levels her gaze at him. “ _If you use your keen powers of observation, Detective, you might notice that my car won’t start_.” Finally, she sighs and leans back in her seat, defeated. “ _I guess that’s it. Arrest me. Read me my rights._ ”

He’s not sure what it is about her tone or her demeanor, but everything inside him sort of softens. She sounds about as exhausted as he feels, and it occurs to him that his irritation probably did nothing to mitigate her frustration; in fact, he’s played just as much a part in escalating the situation as she has.

“ _Um._ ” He feels like a jackass now, and he figures it’s better to make amends than make excuses. “ _Don’t worry, I’m not going to arrest you. But maybe I can give you a hand._ ”

He kind of kicks himself, once he’s helped her jump her battery and she’s driven off safely into the night, that he didn’t get her number. Or at least her name, for God’s sake. He wouldn’t have asked her out - not after practically convincing her she was under arrest - but it would’ve been nice to at least know who she is, for future reference.

Maybe he’ll run into her in town, when he’s not on duty. Maybe he’ll get over himself long enough to actually be pleasant to her, show her the kind of guy he is when he’s not at the end of a twelve-hour shift. Or maybe, she’ll disappear into the night and he’ll never see her again.

His instincts, though? They’re telling him this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

… … …

She admits to herself, as she turns out of the parking garage, that she might need to dial down the cynicism a little bit.

Willow has a lot of reasons (excuses) why she was less than pleasant (rude) to a law enforcement officer, none of which seem all that great now in hindsight. She’s surprised he didn’t actually arrest her, honestly. Yeah, she was parked illegally, and yeah, it probably did seem like she was sleeping, or drunk, or whatever else he accused her of. There was a time, not too long ago, when she would have politely rolled down her window and followed orders without question.

That time is long gone.

She’s seen too much, now. She knows too much about corruption in law enforcement, and in her experience, overzealous cops such as Detective Harrison Chase are generally the least trustworthy. She doesn’t know enough about him to decide whether her first impressions were correct or not, but once he dropped the bad-cop act, he seemed like a nice enough guy. Nicer than most cops she’s ever met, anyway.

Somewhere in the last few years, she’s completely lost her faith in humanity. Where it used to be her instinct to give others the benefit of the doubt, now her fight-or-flight system seems to be in overdrive. She’s skeptical of even the most polite, well-meaning people, and she wishes she knew how and when she became this person.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. She knows exactly what happened. She just prefers not to think about most of it, if she can avoid it.

For most of her life, she had little stability and a whole lot of uncertainty. Her parents were constantly moving her from town to town, never staying in one place for very long. She was hesitant to make friends, to put down roots anywhere, because every attempt ended in tears as they packed up and left yet again. And then, when they finally did settle down in one place for a few years, it turned into such a toxic situation that Willow made the decision to leave for herself, at the expense of her relationships with just about everyone, including her mother. She tries to downplay it in her mind, but the truth is that she went through hell and back to get where she is today. It shook her trust in others, her confidence in herself, and the very foundation of who she is. When she left home - or the closest thing she’s ever had to a home - she was broken, terrified, alone. And five weeks pregnant.

She could’ve handled leaving home on her own. It would’ve been difficult, and she still would have been terrified, but everything was made a thousand times more complicated by the fact that she was carrying a child. A child that needed to be kept as secret as possible, for as long as possible. There were so many nights - sometimes in a motel, sometimes in her car, sometimes in a temporary run-down apartment - when she laid awake, wondering if she was really strong enough to raise a child on her own. Logically, she knew she had options, and adoption could be an easy way to keep her baby safe from those who would harm him. It wasn’t until she was holding her baby boy in her arms, just minutes after delivery, that she knew. Jaxon opened those blue eyes and stole her heart, and she knew in that moment that she could do this. She would love him and protect him and make sure nothing bad happened to him.

It hasn’t been easy, caring for a four-month-old on her own. Late nights, early mornings, and long days at work mean she runs on little to no sleep most of the time. Between caring for Jaxon and wrangling a group of twenty-five third-graders all day, she’s surprised this is the first time she’s been caught ‘sleeping’ in her car. So yeah, maybe she could’ve been a little less defensive, but _he_ could’ve been a little less judgmental.

She can’t help but wonder if she would’ve handled the situation differently, had she not been exhausted and on her way to pick up her son. Would she have flirted a little more, scowled a little less? Would she have let herself notice the way his green eyes sparkled, the way the scruff on his chin highlighted his jawline? Most women probably would have swooned the second they laid eyes on him, and maybe in another life, she would’ve swooned, too. But nothing kills the buzz of attraction like remembering her four-month-old is waiting for her.

Willow pulls into her destination, sighing in annoyance. She doesn’t like to think of the way things _could have been_. It only serves to distract her from everything she has to be grateful for, right here and now. And right now, she’s grateful for little things like a level of friendship that allows her to walk right into a house without knocking.

She pushes open the front door and tiptoes into the entryway, carefully closing the door behind her. “Lulu,” she sputters on a laugh, stepping down into the living room. “What are you doing?”

Lulu shrugs from her place on the sofa, where she’s slouched with her feet propped on the coffee table. “Your son makes a pretty good shelf for my book,” she jokes.

As it happens almost every day when she comes to pick up her son, everything inside her loosens at the sight of him. He’s lying on his stomach on Lulu’s chest, his little rosy cheek pressed to her collarbone as he sleeps. He’s so small, so innocent, such a little miracle that anything she was worried about today - including her run-in with the law this evening - just fades away. She takes a seat beside Lulu on the couch, setting her bag down on the floor as she runs a hand over Jaxon’s little head. “How long has he been asleep?”

Lulu purses her lips, squints in consideration. “Twenty minutes, maybe?” She pushes herself into an upright position and gently transfers the baby to Willow’s waiting arms. “I tried to keep him awake, but he’s been so fussy today that he hardly napped at all. He’s got to be exhausted.”

“Go figure.” Willow chuckles, settling Jaxon against her shoulder, relieved when he doesn’t stir even the slightest bit. “Maybe he’s exhausted, but I’m sure he’ll be up all night again, and then we’ll _both_ be exhausted.”

Lulu smiles knowingly. “Welcome to motherhood, Willow Tait.”

She doesn’t have much experience with friendship, considering the lack of stability in her childhood, but even so, she knows how fortunate she is to have a friend like Lulu. It wasn’t something she expected, befriending the mother of one of her students, but over the last three months, she’s been the kind of friend Willow’s only dreamed of. Case in point: she cares for Jaxon every day, free of charge, while her own kids are in school. Just one of the many reasons why she’s thankful her journey led her here.

She settled down in Port Charles almost by accident. She spent the last seven months of her pregnancy running¾staying in cheap motels or short-term apartments, taking whatever part-time work she could find to save some money, trying to attract as little attention as possible. After a few weeks, inevitably, she’d feel the ghosts and shadows of her past begin to catch up with her, and she’d run. In what she truly believes was a perfect twist of fate, she was passing through PC, a mile down the road from General Hospital, when her water broke. She took it as a sign that not only did she need to stop - immediately - but that maybe Port Charles was a place she and her son could call home.

Her gut feeling was only affirmed when everything just sort of fell into place. After giving birth to Jaxon, she spent a day or two at GH with Elizabeth Webber as her nurse. She was sweet and friendly and, obviously, curious about who she was and how she ended up in Port Charles. When she mentioned she might be interested in a teaching job, Elizabeth referred her to her son’s elementary school, which was in need of a third-grade teacher. Willow had an interview the next week, and Principal Schultz hired her on the spot. She used the rest of her savings as the deposit on a tiny two-bedroom apartment, perfect for she and Jaxon and no one else.

But it was the day of orientation for her new students that really sealed the deal for her. In the most wonderful coincidence, Elizabeth’s son Aiden ended up in her class, along with Aiden’s cousin Charlotte and her mother. Lulu Falconeri quickly became a friend, someone she felt she could rely on and confide in, almost like the big sister she never had. And when Lulu volunteered to care for Jaxon during the school days, though they hardly knew one another, her gut told her she could trust Lulu to take care of her son.

And just like that, Willow had the foundation for a great life here in Port Charles, far enough away from ‘home’ that the shadows didn’t loom so large anymore.

It hasn’t been all smooth sailing, of course, and she’s had more than her share of sleepless nights, wondering if (when) those shadows will finally catch up to her. She can’t run forever, but there are people she needs to avoid at all costs; for herself, yes, but mostly, for Jaxon’s safety. So she keeps a low profile, tries her hardest to make sure as few people know about Jaxon as possible. The fewer people who know about her son, the lower the chances of the wrong people discovering the truth.

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” Lulu asks, standing from the sofa to move toward the kitchen. “I haven’t started cooking yet, but I can heat us up something really quick if you want.”

“I think I’ve imposed on you enough for one day,” Willow chuckles, holding Jaxon gingerly to her chest as she stands. She carefully leans over, gathers her bag and Jaxon’s diaper bag from the floor beside her.

“Willow,” Lulu says sternly, and Willow’s almost startled when she looks up to find her friend standing in front of her. She grabs Willow’s wrist, forcing her to meet her eyes. “When are you going to just _let me help you_ without feeling so guilty? I’ve told you before¾I _offered_ to take care of Jaxon for you. I _offered_ to cook you dinner. It’s not imposing if someone offers to help you. Okay?”

“I just don’t ever want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” Willow insists.

“I don’t,” Lulu insists. She ducks her head to catch Willow’s eyes again. “So no more worrying about it, okay? Just drop Jaxon off in the morning and leave the rest to me.”

Willow smiles gratefully, knowing it’s better to quit while she’s ahead than to continue to argue with Lulu. She always wins these arguments, anyway. “Okay, okay,” she concedes. “But I’m still taking him home and giving you a break, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

Lulu rolls her eyes as they move toward the door. “Fine,” she sighs. “I guess I’ll let you take him. Despite what you might think, I actually love spending my day cuddling with him, and I hate when you take him away from me.”

“Back off.” Willow narrows her eyes playfully, moving toward her car and turning her son away from Lulu. “It’s my turn for cuddles now.”

As much as she hates that she can’t spend her day cuddling her son, she’s beyond grateful that he clearly spends his days with someone who loves him almost as much as she does. The circumstances she fell into here in Port Charles have been more than she could ever have imagined, and not for the first time, she says a silent thank you to whatever forces of God or nature or the universe led her here.

And to think, it’s only been three months. She really doesn’t know if it could get any better than this.

… … …

He’s been in Port Charles for almost eight months now, and he finally feels like he’s beginning to put down some real roots here. He wasn’t sure, once the Nelle Benson case was over and done, whether or not he’d still feel the pull to be here; in fact, he almost expected to want to leave immediately, to put the entire ordeal in his rearview mirror and make a clean start somewhere else. But he has connections here now, ones that he’s not sure he ever wants to leave behind. His brother and Anna, the guys at the station who have finally begun to accept him as one of their own, his new and unexpected friendship with Michael… and, of course, Lulu and her kids, who continue to treat him as one of the family, despite Dante’s continued absence.

Maybe that’s why he feels so guilty for kind of sort of avoiding her for the last few weeks. He knows she means well, but ever since the truth came out about his past with Jenelle, she’s been hounding him to jump back into the dating world. It’s not that the women she suggests for him aren’t beautiful, wonderful people, but he just isn’t sure he’s ready to put himself back out there again. Not after he got burned so horrifically the last time. He hates that he continues to let Jenelle have that little sliver of power over him, but he still feels like he needs more time to heal from her betrayal, no matter how long it’s been.

But he can’t avoid Lulu forever, a point that she proved when she stalked into the squad room this morning and essentially demanded he join her and the kids for dinner that night. It’s not like she had to twist his arm, or anything¾he’d be a fool to turn down a home-cooked meal and a few rounds of Mario Kart with Rocco¾but it does make him feel like an ass for being AWOL for so long.

In the weeks after Dante left, he struggled with how to keep an eye on Lulu and the kids without overstepping into their lives. He made a promise to his partner, and he intended on keeping it - he still does - so he got in the habit of driving past the house on his way home from work most days, just to make sure the lights were on and nothing seemed suspicious. He thought he was being covert, so he was shocked (and a little embarrassed) when Lulu called him out on it. But she did tell him that he was welcome to stop by and come on in, without an invitation, anytime he wanted to check up on them.

So even though it feels a little strange, he knocks once, then pushes the door open, calling out for Lulu as he walks in. “Hello?” He takes off his jacket, hangs it on a hook in the doorway, passes Charlotte playing on her tablet as he makes his way to the kitchen. She’s so engrossed in her game that she doesn’t even look up. (Kids these days, honestly.)

“Oh, Chase,” Lulu sighs as she comes around the corner from the kitchen, wielding a mixing spoon. She’s wearing sweatpants, her hair in a messy knot on top of her head, and the best way he can describe her facial expression is frazzled. She looks… well, frankly, she looks like she’s not expecting company. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles sheepishly. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “But you did tell me to come on in, so…”

She waves him off, shaking her head as she moves back into the kitchen, and he follows. “No, no, of course,” she agrees. “You know you’re always welcome here. You’re family.”

She’s told him that a thousand times, but it still makes his heart warm, just a little bit. He smiles gratefully. “Can I help you with anything?”

“I’ve got it, I think,” she insists, and he’s not entirely convinced, but he knows better than to get in her way. She moves toward the stove, stirs whatever it is that she’s cooking that smells so amazing. “I’m sorry, but it might take me longer than I thought to get dinner ready.”

Well, yeah, he can see that now. There’s a tiny baby, probably not more than a few months old, sitting in a bassinet on her kitchen counter. He seems happy, chewing absently on his fingers as his little eyes look around the room curiously. He’s confused, because he knows for a fact that Lulu didn’t have another baby, and even after sifting through his mental rolodex of Port Charles, he can’t figure out who’s baby it would be. “Are you… babysitting?”

“Yeah, just helping out a friend,” she says. She moves around her kitchen expertly, turning down stove burners and stirring pots, as she simultaneously assembles and heats up a bottle for the baby. “Charlotte’s teacher at school needed some help during the day, and I volunteered to help out.” She rocks the bassinet as the baby begins to stir. “This is baby Jaxon,” she says with a smile.

“Hey, little guy,” he says, chuckling as the baby quickly grabs the finger he offers. Jaxon just looks up at him, wide-eyed, and he can’t help but smile. He turns back to Lulu, his elbows resting on the counter as Jaxon retains a death grip on his finger. “How did you get roped into babysitting when you have two kids of your own? And wasn’t school out hours ago?”

“Down, Detective,” Lulu warns laughingly. “There’s no need to investigate her. All I know is that she moved here when Jaxon was born, and she doesn’t have anyone around to help her out, obviously. I think she ran into some trouble back home and needed a fresh start.” She smiles slowly, raising her eyebrows. “Actually, I feel silly for not having introduced you yet. She’s single.”

He narrows his eyes at her playfully as he finally pulls his finger away from Jaxon. He stands up straight, pointing a finger at her knowingly. “I know you’re desperate to set me up, Lulu, but I think going on my first date in over a year with a girl who already has a baby might be pushing the envelope.”

Before he can even blink, she’s reached across the island to punch his arm, and he laughs in surprise. “Don’t be an ass,” she scolds, fighting a smile.

“Mom!” Charlotte calls from her place in the living room. “Swear jar!”

Lulu winces. “Sorry,” she calls. “Chase made me do it.”

He scowls at her. “I think I’ll just go hang out with the kids, now,” he chuckles, moving toward the living room as Lulu points her finger at him in warning. He greets Charlotte with a fist bump as she crosses toward the kitchen. “Hey, blondie.”

“Hi Chase.” Charlotte blushes, and Chase bites back a laugh. Lulu warned him a while back that she thought Charlotte might be developing a little crush on him. He throws her a little wink that makes her giggle.

“Um, Charlotte, why don’t you go get Rocco and you two wash up for dinner.” Lulu unbuckles Jaxon from his bassinet and cradles him in her arms, producing a bottle from the counter behind her. She shakes it as she follows Chase and Charlotte into the living room. “I’m going to feed Jaxon and then I’ll finish up cooking, okay?”

“Okay, Mom.” Charlotte gives Jaxon a sweet kiss on his tiny nose and heads upstairs, yelling Rocco’s name as she goes. Clearly Jaxon is a fixture around here, and he thinks it’s sweet that the kids seem to like having him around.

“Seriously, Chase,” Lulu continues. She takes a seat on the sofa and tilts the bottle toward Jaxon’s mouth just as he begins to fuss. Chase sighs and reluctantly takes a seat in the chair across from her. “She’s new to town. You’re not new anymore, I guess, but you’re lonely.” He furrows his brow, opens his mouth to protest, and she cuts him off with a stern look. “Don’t deny it. You’re a hermit. She’s young, she’s beautiful, and I think you should at least meet her.”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously at her. He should’ve known she couldn’t keep her meddling hands away from his love life for long. “Why do I feel like you inviting me here tonight was a set-up?”

And then, as if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, and Lulu smiles slowly, almost diabolically. “Because it was.” Before he can respond and convey his annoyance, she quickly arranges her face into a wide-eyed, innocent stare. “Chase, would you mind getting that for me? My hands are a bit full.”

He wants to be frustrated, but she’s kind of an evil genius, and he can’t help but appreciate the effort. So he rolls his eyes on a chuckle and stands, quickly making his way to the door and pulling it open. He hardly registers who’s standing on the other side before she pushes past him without so much as a glance in his direction.

“Oh my God, Lulu, I am so sorry,” the woman gushes. She sets her purse down near the door, quickly makes her way toward the sofa. “I had to have an emergency parent-teacher conference after school, and then Principal Schultz would _not_ stop talking, and -”

“Willow,” Lulu laughs as Chase closes the door and slowly moves back toward his seat. “Take a deep breath. You don’t need to apologize; you told me you’d be late, remember?”

“I know, I just feel terrible,” Willow insists. She plops down unceremoniously next to Lulu, clearly at home here, and Chase infers that they’re pretty good friends at this point. He watches as she takes Jaxon’s little foot in her hand gently, almost absentmindedly, while he finishes his bottle. “I know you have plans for dinner tonight.”

“We’ve talked about this,” Lulu sighs in exasperation. “I’m more than happy to help out, and Chase is practically family. He knows all about the crazy that goes on around here.”

He knows as soon as Willow becomes aware of his presence, watches as her shoulders tense and her gaze drifts to his, and he realizes he’s been staring. He recognized her almost immediately as the woman he borderline harassed in the parking garage at GH last week. In one breath, he feels embarrassed, almost ashamed, and in the next, he can’t believe his luck, that somehow he ran into her again. For a split second, he wants to avert his gaze, try to play it off, but she clearly caught him watching her, so he smiles instead.

She sits up straight, her body going still as her eyes pierce his own. “Oh, hello, Detective Harrison Chase,” she says curtly. “Written any parking tickets lately?”

He clears his throat, his optimism shifting very quickly back to shame as she practically stares him down. If looks could kill, he’d be a very, very dead man. He marvels at how he’s managed to piss off the first girl he’s found even remotely interesting in months. (Maybe years.) “I’m, uh… I’m not here to arrest you, I promise,” he insists, smiling hesitantly. He holds his hands up in surrender, hoping to disarm her clear state of annoyance at his presence. “Sorry about that, by the way.” He moves toward her slowly, reaching out his hand, which she reluctantly shakes. “I’m just here to mooch dinner off my partner’s wife,” he jokes.

Willow is clearly not amused and turns to Lulu, who wipes the confusion off her face and widens her eyes at her friend. “Detective Chase is Dante’s partner at the PCPD,” she explains. “Dante tasked him with looking out for me and the kids while he’s away, and in return, I force Chase to come over for dinner and entertain my children.”

He wouldn’t be a very good detective if he didn’t notice the way Willow’s shoulders slump, ever so slightly, and she reaches for her son, turning back to face Chase again. “Nice to see you again, Detective Chase,” she says begrudgingly, forcing a smile.

“You as well, Willow,” he agrees. He takes a seat in the chair across from the couch, rests his elbows on his knees as he attempts to study her subtly. Lulu was right about one thing: she’s beautiful, and she’s clearly got her shit together, with a full-time job and a four-month-old on her hands. (No wonder she was ‘sleeping’ in her car that night.) But by the looks of it, she’s less than impressed with him so far, and he finds that he’s kind of desperate to get on her good side. At the very least because she’s friends with Lulu, and they’re bound to run into each other on occasion.

“I’m sorry,” Lulu says, furrowing her brow with an innocent smile at Chase. “How do you two know each other?”

Willow rolls her eyes, patting Jaxon’s back as he rests comfortably against her shoulder. She crosses one leg over the other, leans back into the sofa. “Detective Chase caught me parked in a restricted area at GH last week,” she begins. “He accused me of being drunk, and then put on a show like he was going to arrest me.”

He furrows his brow. “Wait a second,” he chuckles in surprise. “I was never going to arrest you.”

She meets his eyes, her green ones narrowed in residual annoyance. “You could’ve fooled me.”

Okay, maybe she’s right. He was kind of a jackass that night. He smiles sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. “I may have let the frustration of the day get the better of me at the end of a long shift. I told you, I’m sorry.”

She scoffs at him. “You’re not the only one to ever have a long, frustrating day, _Detective_.”

“Okay…” Lulu’s eyes dart between the two of them, clearly enjoying the exchange. Can she not tell that her attempt at a set-up is obviously a failure? While he’ll admit that he’s interested, Willow very clearly is _not_. “Well, I’m glad you two have already met.” Chase narrows his eyes at her, and she avoids his gaze, focusing on Willow instead. “It wasn’t long ago that Chase was the new kid in town. Maybe he can show you some of the places where the young, single crowd hang out in Port Charles.”

Willow levels a glare at Lulu that, for some reason, makes Chase grin from ear to ear. “Uh, Lulu,” he interjects, stifling a laugh. He runs his knuckles over his chin, amused. “What makes you think I know where any of those places are?”

“Well, maybe that’s the point,” Lulu shrugs innocently. “You two can find them together.”

He’s not entirely opposed to the idea. Willow does not agree. “Oh yes, I’d just _love_ to spend a perfectly good evening being interrogated,” she retorts, rolling her eyes.

Lulu rolls her eyes and speaks before Chase can open his mouth to defend himself. “I’m sure he’d put away his badge for a night, if you asked.”

“Lulu,” Chase warns. It was a valiant effort, he’ll give her credit for that, but this is clearly not going well, and if he has any hope of salvaging Willow’s opinion of him, it’s probably better to quit while they’re ahead. (Is he even ‘ahead’ at this point? He’s not really sure anymore.) “Leave it alone. I’m sure Willow will have no trouble meeting people in this town without you meddling.”

Willow rolls her eyes, but she can’t fight her smile as she meets Chase’s eyes. “Yeah, with a four-month-old in tow, I’m a real catch.” She adjusts Jaxon where he rests against her shoulder, runs her hand down his back as he stirs.

“Okay, okay,” Lulu concedes before Chase can respond. “I’ll back off. At least you two have met. I don’t know why I hadn’t introduced you before. Maybe it’s because Chase has been avoiding me for a while now.”

Busted. He quickly moves his gaze from Willow to Lulu, clears his throat. “I’ve been busy at the station,” he tries.

He wilts under her stern glare. “Never heard that one before.”

“And on that note,” Willow laughs. She stands with Jaxon securely in her arms. “I think it’s time that Jaxon and I went home.” She moves toward the door, and though she’s trying to be polite, her body language gives her away. Clearly, their entire exchange has made her uncomfortable, and she wants to escape the situation as quickly as possible. He can’t blame her; if he could escape, he would, too. “Thank you again, Lulu, for everything.” She reluctantly meets his eyes, acknowledges him with a nod. “Detective Chase.”

He nods in return, unable to tear his eyes away from hers. “Willow.”

She ducks her head to break his gaze and makes her exit. He closes the door behind her, turns to face Lulu with a scowl. “You’re lucky I already feel guilty for avoiding you,” he scolds, and she smiles broadly. “You are a _meddler_ , Lulu Falconeri.”

“Yes, I am,” she says proudly. “What are you going to do about it?”

He wants to make a point, wants to give her a piece of his mind for (probably) ruining any chance of anything happening with Willow, for making them both so uncomfortable. He could say his piece, walk out, go pick up some takeout.

But none of those options really appeal to him at this point.

“I’m going to fall at your feet and beg you to feed me spaghetti.”

“That’s what I thought.”

… … …

She should’ve known that Lulu couldn’t keep from meddling for very long. Despite Willow’s objections, she’s constantly talking up every available man she knows. From what she experienced tonight, she’s sure Lulu provides Chase with the same courtesy. (Poor guy.) But even if she were interested in Chase, or any of Lulu’s suggestions for that matter, she’s not in a position to get involved with anyone in any capacity right now. She knows that her friend means well, but there’s so much she doesn’t know¾so much that Willow hasn’t yet told her.

It’s not just that she’s a mother. Although, she thinks as she lets herself into her apartment, Jaxon hollering uncomfortably in his car seat, it certainly doesn’t help things. Her life is a crazy whirlwind of work, infant care, and an occasional glass of wine at home, by herself, before she goes to bed at night. She’s not even sure where she would fit another person into her daily reality, honestly. Take tonight, for example¾it’s almost eight-thirty by the time she gets home, and she essentially moves straight into Jaxon’s bedtime routine. After a quick, warm bath and one last bottle, he’s down for the night, and she settles herself on her sofa with a glass of wine, some old rom-com playing on the TV in front of her.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to date, she muses. She would love to spend time with a nice, attractive man, to have an escape from the pressures of her job and raising her son. And in the long run, of course, she would love to have a partner, someone to _help_ her raise Jaxon, someone to love and someone who would love her just the same. That’s what everyone wants, she supposes. But she realizes the baggage that she comes with, and she understands that’s not something most men are all that excited to take on. Baggage that stems from not just the fact that she has a child, but how that child was conceived, and the kind of life she left behind to keep him safe.

It’s more than she can bear to handle, most days. She could never expect someone else to willingly shoulder the burden.

She knows she’s lucky to have Lulu in her corner, to have someone who cares about her, who cares about Jaxon, and who wants her to be happy. But she also knows that Lulu suspects Willow’s story is not a pleasant one, and she’s sure it’s not a coincidence that the man she was ‘introduced’ to tonight also happens to be a detective. Not only would he inevitably dig up the secrets of her past, but he would likely be more than happy to protect her from the big bad wolf. Well, news flash, Detective Harrison Chase: Willow Tait is a lot stronger than the scared little girl who left home a year ago, and she can take care of herself and her son just fine.

The knock on her door startles her, and she quickly steadies her hand before red wine sloshes all over her sofa. She rests a hand over her chest to calm her racing heart, sets the glass on the coffee table before her hands inevitably begin to shake. She wishes her mind didn’t automatically go to the worst-case scenario, but considering the shadows she’s running from, she can’t help but prepare for the worst.

She forces herself to temper her anxiety and slowly moves toward the door. Surely it’s just a neighbor, maybe someone who heard Jaxon crying and is concerned. Maybe someone letting her know that she left the headlights on in her car. Surely, no one’s discovered anything she wouldn’t want them to know, have they?

She tentatively peeks through the peep hole, and despite the flood of relief that fills her system, she can’t help the annoyance that also simmers to the surface.

“Detective Chase,” she says in greeting as she opens the door, crossing her arms. She’s acutely aware, suddenly, that she’s in her pajamas and, thus, not wearing a bra. Fantastic. She narrows her eyes at him. “Does the PCPD normally conduct investigations this late?”

Chase smiles disarmingly, and she tries not to let on just how quickly that smile calmed her nerves. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to interrogate you,” he insists, rocking back on his heels.

Her instinct is to step forward, to block his view of her apartment - it’s unsettling, how much he already seems to know about her, including where she lives - but then he rubs his hands together, his teeth chattering, and she remembers that it’s November in upstate New York. They’d both be more comfortable inside.

So she steps aside and opens the door a little wider, and he gratefully takes the invitation to step inside as she quickly closes the door behind him. Between his joking tone and the sincerity in his eyes, she finds that it’s difficult to maintain an air of annoyance, but she attempts to do it anyway. She keeps her arms crossed defensively across her chest and makes no move to invite him any further inside.

“Seems like you’ve settled in nicely,” Chase observes, and she notices that he’s careful to stand in one spot. He’s curious, that much is obvious, but he’s also making a conscious effort not to insert himself into her space. He’s clearly well practiced at obtaining information without drawing attention to himself, and it makes her uneasy. “No boxes anywhere, or anything.”

“I’ve lived here almost four months,” she sighs. “If you’re not here on police business, then it’s awfully late to be knocking on anyone’s door.”

He chuckles, and okay, she’d be blind not to notice the way his eyes sparkle in amusement. It would be cute, she supposes, if she were noticing that sort of thing. Which she’s not. “You left this at Lulu’s.” He produces her purse from behind his back, holds it out for her to take. “She didn’t want to load up all the kids to bring it over here, but she figured you’d need it.” He clears his throat, a knowing smirk crooked on his lips. “You know, so you don’t get pulled over on your way to her house in the morning without a license.”

How clever. Willow fights a smile and rolls her eyes. “Ha, ha,” she deadpans, and Chase’s smirk only widens. She takes her purse from him, hangs it on its hook by the door. “So she conveniently sent you over here to deliver it to me.”

Chase nods, his head tilted in mock confusion. “Conveniently.”

“She thinks she’s subtle.”

“She’s really not.”

“She means well,” Willow shrugs, and she lets the corner of her mouth quirk up in amusement.

Chase nods in agreement, and his eyes sparkle again, this time with sincerity. “She’s a good person to have in your corner,” he says seriously. “And she seems to really care about you, and Jaxon, for what it’s worth.”

His eyes all but bore into hers, and she hums, subtly averting her eyes to catch her breath before she meets them again. “Well, she seems to care about you, too,” she murmurs.

“At least there’s one thing we have in common,” he smirks.

Okay, this time she can’t help but smile. “At least.”

She may have misjudged him, she thinks suddenly as he smiles genuinely, his eyes once again drifting around her apartment. Just as he caught her on a bad day, that night in the parking garage, maybe she also caught him on a bad day. Maybe they’ve already seen one another at their worst. Something tells her that right now, she’s seeing him at his best, and she can’t help but acknowledge that she likes what she sees.

“Listen,” he begins, clearing his throat, and he seems hesitant, suddenly. “I, uh… I don’t want to overstep, but Lulu mentioned that you may have run into some trouble back home, or… or wherever you came here from,” he clarifies. “If you… need any help, or anything…”

“You’re overstepping,” she interrupts, and now she’s right back to being annoyed. She’s sure he means well, but she’s not interested in being anyone’s charity case. “Whatever I left behind… it’s not police business, and it’s certainly none of _your_ business, in any capacity. We’ve been fine for the last four months, and I can take care of my son just fine without your help.”

She levels her gaze at him, and she watches with a smidge of satisfaction as he stutters over his own response. “I’m, uh… I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable,” he backtracks. “Of course it’s none of my business. I didn’t mean to…”

“But you did,” she shrugs. “Thank you for bringing my purse back.” She pulls open the front door. “Goodnight, Detective Chase.”

She can tell that he wants to continue, but he seems to sense the air of finality in her tone, and after searching her eyes for a brief moment, he closes his mouth and nods in resignation. “Goodnight,” he mutters.

She closes the door behind him, deadbolts herself inside, and rests her forehead against it in exhaustion. She takes slow, deep breaths to regain her composure. Once again, she’s not entirely sure why she becomes so defensive around him. The fact that he’s a detective means he’s naturally curious, and his instinct is to pry. And though she would like to believe that his primary motive is to help her, she’s been burned too many times by cops who claimed to mean well. But of course, her reaction probably only heighted in his intrigue. She should have kept her expression neutral, maybe even smiled, and assured him that nothing was wrong, that she just needed a fresh start with her son. Maybe he would have believed her.

(If he’s half the detective she thinks he is, he wouldn’t have believed it for a second.)

… … …


	2. you just took me by surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "seeing blind" by niall horan & maren morris.
> 
> { I own nothing }  
> any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show & is credited to the writers. :-)

… … …

There are a lot of things he loves about being a detective in Port Charles. Being a detective is never a mundane job, but he finds that in a town like this, he’s never short of work to do when he’s on the clock. There’s always something - robbery, extortion, murder, kidnapping, assault. There’s never a dull moment here, and he rarely has downtime to let his mind wander.

Apparently, his mind doesn’t need downtime to wander. Not when it comes to Willow.

It’s not like he’s daydreaming about her, or anything. Though if he was, who could blame him? She’s gorgeous and smart and witty and clearly has her priorities in order. But what really intrigues him is the mystery behind it all. In his experience, women don’t just show up in a strange town with a baby, alone, without some kind of story to tell. How did she end up here? Why Port Charles? What (or who) is she running from?

He’s a detective, okay? He’s naturally curious, and she’s a puzzle that he’s itching to put together.

She clearly doesn’t trust him. He’s assuming that, given what little information Lulu gave him and what he’s gathered from their few encounters so far, she doesn’t trust many people at all. It makes sense, he muses, especially if she’s running from something. (Or someone.) He offered to help her for a lot of reasons - duty to his title, a way to connect with her, genuine desire to help someone in trouble - but he should’ve known better than to ambush her like that. It’s just that any level of concern from Lulu is a pretty reliable indicator that something is wrong, and his detective instincts won’t leave him alone when he senses there’s a problem.

What if she’s in danger? Worse yet, what if her son is in danger?

He may or may not have used his privileges and security clearance to do a little digging. Just through public records, to see if he can gain any insight into who she is or what kind of trouble she might be in. Funnily enough, the first record of a Willow Tait anywhere is a certificate of a legal name change, finalized by the state in early June. Her previous name is redacted, which in his experience is likely for security purposes. Evidently, whatever she’s running from is bad enough that she felt the need to change her name to stay hidden.

He takes the dead end as a sign that he’s not meant to know anything about her past, that he’s not meant to get involved, at least on a professional level. Maybe someday, if he’s lucky, she’ll trust him enough to open up to him, or even to let him help her. But clearly, for now, he needs to set his burning curiosity aside and let it go, especially because Willow made it clear she doesn’t want his help. He would be more persistent, but he’s kind of hoping he’ll run into her a lot, and if he ever wants a shot with her, he figures now would be a good time to back off. And, as a result, maybe he can actually focus on his work instead of creating idle theories in his head about her life before Port Charles.

He leans back in his chair and stifles a yawn, and Valerie looks up from her paperwork, shoots him a smirk. “You look beat, Harrison.”

He narrows his eyes at her, mildly annoyed by her fascination with his first name. So few people call him Harrison that he rarely even answers to it. He decides to ignore it, doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction. Instead, he runs his hand over his face tiredly. “I think I’m going cross-eyed.”

She leans back in her chair, crosses her arms over her chest. “Well, you’ve been staring at the same witness statement for the last two hours,” she reasons. She quirks a brow. “A little distracted, Detective? Got a hot date, or something?”

He rolls his eyes and busies himself closing the case file, gathering his things. “Maybe if you actually focused on your work instead of worrying about my love life, you could go home sometime soon.”

She waves him off, unphased. “I’m going out for a beer with some of the guys after work, anyway,” she reminds him. She furrows her brow, her eyes following him as he locks up his desk. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

Without a trace of hesitation, Chase shakes his head. “Nah. Like you said, I’m beat. I think I’ll just head home, order takeout.”

Valerie rolls her eyes at him. “You know, _Harrison_ ,” she starts, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her desk. “You’re allowed to have a little fun every once in a while. Just because our work is serious doesn’t mean we always have to be.”

He’s heard some variation of the same from multiple people during his time in Port Charles. Even Commissioner Ashford occasionally lays into him for being so uptight. Despite what his coworkers apparently think of him, he does like to have a good time, and he does have a sense of humor. But he’s been trying for so long to rebuild his reputation, to atone for mistakes he’s made in the past, that sometimes it’s hard to remember to let his guard down at work.

Sure, he could go out with the guys (and Valerie) tonight, have a few beers, maybe let loose and show them who Harrison Chase is - without the _Detective_ title. But honestly, he’s not in the mood to be social tonight, and besides, it’s not like anyone really expects him to go anyway. He might throw off the dynamic if he showed up, make things awkward for everyone. Really, he’s doing them a favor by going home.

“I’ll try and remember that,” he says sarcastically, shooting her a smirk as he slings his bag onto his shoulder. “Take it easy, Spencer.”

Valerie sighs in resignation. “Back at’cha, Chase.”

There’s a split second, as he’s waiting for the elevator, when he considers changing his mind. His plans for the night aren’t very exciting, after all. But it’s only a split second, and by the time the elevator opens, all he wants to do is stop by Charlie’s to pick up takeout and head home to watch the Sox game. Maybe he’ll even open a new bottle of wine, try something different tonight for a change.

No wonder he’s such a popular guy. His life is thrilling, really.

(Maybe next time Lulu tries to set him up on a date, he’ll take her up on it.)

… … …

It’s not that she doesn’t trust Chase; it’s hard not to trust him when Lulu clearly does. And even though she’s been conditioned to be skeptical of law enforcement, from what she knows of Detective Chase, he’s known for going by the book in all areas of his job. So no, trust is not the problem. It’s just that she doesn’t _know_ him. She feels she can trust him on a professional level, but personally? There are things that she hasn’t even told Lulu about her past, and the thought of some well-meaning but overzealous detective digging up details about her life makes her stomach roll uneasily.

Some things - in her case, most things, actually - are just better left in the past.

Lulu, incidentally, does not agree. A point which she makes clear as she takes a seat on her sofa next to Willow, hands her friend a steaming cup of tea, pulls her feet up underneath her. Jaxon’s been sleeping for the better part of the last two hours, and even though she’s exhausted from the week, Willow decided she would give herself a little Monday after-school treat and have tea with Lulu while he naps. She should have known Lulu wouldn’t pass up a chance to grill her about her ‘chance’ encounter with Chase at her apartment last week.

“Chase can help you, Willow,” she insists, cradling her mug between her hands. “I know you prefer not to discuss what happened in the past - what led you here - but if there’s something you’re running from… it can’t hurt to have him on your side, that’s all I’m saying. And Chase is extremely loyal to people he cares about.”

“Well, he clearly cares about you,” Willow comments, sipping her tea slowly, wincing at the temperature. She’s not a big fan of tea to begin with, but November in Port Charles is so damn cold that she’ll take any excuse to drink something warm at this point. She clears her throat and takes the opportunity to steer the attention away from herself. “It’s sweet, how he looks after you and the kids with Dante away.”

Lulu narrows her eyes playfully, pointing a finger accusingly. “Don’t change the subject,” she warns. “And you’re right, it is sweet, but it’s also just who he is. Even if Dante hadn’t asked him to do it, he probably would’ve found a way to keep an eye on us anyway. And even though _you_ haven’t asked him to do it, he’ll be keeping an eye on you, too.”

Willow rolls her eyes, pulls her legs up underneath her to relax into the sofa. “I don’t need anyone to keep an eye on me,” she insists. She’s momentarily distracted when Jaxon stirs in his bassinet, and she’s almost disappointed that he falls right back to sleep. “And I definitely don’t need anyone digging into business that isn’t theirs to know. The whole point of moving here was to make a fresh start, Lulu.” She pauses, swallows, tries to keep her voice steady through her nerves. “It’s better for me, better for everyone if the life I left behind stays there.”

Lulu holds her free hand up in defeat. “Okay,” she concedes. “I get it. You’re entitled to handle your business however you want. As long as you know that at the first sign of trouble, I’m bringing Chase into the fold, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Willow can’t help but smile at that. She would expect nothing less, honestly. “You’re a good friend, and I’m grateful to know that you’re in my corner. And Jaxon’s corner, too.”

Lulu shrugs, waves her off, sips her tea slowly. The smile that crosses her face is like a Cheshire cat. “But since we’re talking about Chase…” Willow groans as Lulu smirks into her mug. “I’ve mentioned he’s single, haven’t I?” she asks innocently.

“Once or twice.” Willow narrows her eyes at her friend playfully.

“Look,” Lulu sighs “In all seriousness, there’s no pressure, okay? I know you say you’re not ready to date, and that’s fine, but Chase is not just single, he’s _lonely_. He would never admit it, but he spends all his time either at work, at home, or having dinner over here. At the very least, he could use a friend.”

“So you’re saying I should take pity on him.” Willow quirks her brow in amusement. “Won’t _that_ do wonders for his ego.”

Lulu rolls her eyes. “No, I’m saying he’s a great guy who deserves to have great people in his life, and you’re a great person, Willow.” Her eyes sparkle conspiratorially. “And I would also like to point out that since I’m hereby officially offering my childcare expertise anytime you want to go out, that excuse is no longer valid.”

“Duly noted,” Willow concedes with a smirk. “And irrelevant, because I have no desire to date anyone right now, let alone a detective with a hero complex.”

Lulu smirks devilishly. “Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, girlfriend.”

… … …

By the time Friday night rolls around, Chase has been buried in his work so long that he’s desperate for a little human interaction with someone other than Valerie and Commissioner Ashford. He tries to coax Finn into meeting him for a drink, but of course, he’s busy. He thinks about calling Michael, but honestly, Lulu’s been hounding him to come to dinner all week long, so he decides now’s as good a time as any to appease her. And really, he knows she just wants to throw he and Willow together again, and he’s not entirely opposed to the idea.

Because try as he might, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

It’s kind of embarrassing, actually, how much he finds himself thinking about her. It’s not like they’ve spent any real time together, and he really doesn’t even know her very well at all. But he knows enough to pique his interest, and not even just in a professional capacity. Sure, the mystery of it all is fascinating to him, but she’s pretty fascinating all on her own. He finds that he wants to spend time with her, to get to know her, to see if the inside is as beautiful as the outside.

(His gut says that’s the case, but, you know, he’s been wrong before.)

Though Lulu is happy to have him for dinner, he could hear the chaos on the background on the phone, and he can only imagine the kind of crazy she’s been dealing with today. And his suspicions are only confirmed when he lets himself into the house and finds Lulu pacing the living room, attempting to soothe a very unhappy Jaxon.

“Oh, thank God you’re here,” Lulu groans before he can say anything. She quickly moves toward him, holding poor red-faced Jaxon out of in front of her. “Take him. Please. I’m about to lose it.”

His eyes widen uneasily. He’s held his share of babies in his life, but he’s not sure he knows how to comfort a crying, screaming baby. Lulu’s clearly desperate, and he doesn’t know what to do other than take him from her. “Is everything okay?” he asks warily, pressing the little guy up against his chest.

Lulu throws her hands up in exasperation. “He just won’t stop screaming,” she sighs. “He didn’t nap today, so I think he’s overtired, but he just won’t fall asleep. And I’m just… it’s been a long day, and I’m losing my patience, and I’ve got shrimp fried rice simmering on the stove, and apparently I can’t multitask the way I could when my kids were little.”

Chase furrows his brow. Jaxon continues to wail, and he bounces him a little, runs his hand up and down his tiny back. “Where’s Willow?”

“Parent-teacher conferences,” she reminds him. “Today was the last day. It’s not her fault, so don’t go making any arrests, Detective.” She rolls her eyes. “Just help a girl out, would you? Let me finish making dinner and I’ll take over.”

She quickly disappears into the kitchen, and he finds himself a loss. Jaxon’s still screaming, his red little face scrunched up in anger. He supposes he can’t blame him - he can only imagine how frustrating it must be to rely on everyone else to take care of you, to have no real way to communicate your needs. And on the flip side, he kind of marvels at the fact that Willow handles this kind of thing on her own, that she somehow miraculously figures out what Jaxon needs. As he moves around the living room, humming an Eagles song his dad used to listen to all the time, he contemplates the strength, the determination, the sheer force of will it must take for her to balance everything on a daily basis. And yet, she makes it look effortless.

Which is truly a feat, because calming Jaxon down proves to be decidedly _not_ effortless. He paces and bounces and hums and after what feels like eternity, the little boy’s eyes finally begin to droop. His cries fade into whimpers, and when Lulu re-emerges from the kitchen, Jaxon’s fast asleep in his arms as he reclines on the sofa, watching the Sox game.

“Looks like you don’t really need me to take over,” she murmurs, taking a seat next to him, running her hand over Jaxon’s head. “Impressive.”

He shrugs. It’s not like he did anything special. “It was only a matter of time anyway,” he reasons. “He’s clearly exhausted.”

Lulu ignores him, tilts her head. “You’re good with him,” she comments. “And he seems comfortable with you.”

Chase hums. He just bounced the kid a little, hummed him a song; it’s really not that big of a deal. He focuses his attention on the game, right as the opposing team hits a three-run homer to take the lead. Damn it. “How mad would Dante be that I’m watching the Sox on his television?” he smirks.

Lulu rolls her eyes at his obvious change of subject, but she quirks her brow. “I don’t think you want to know,” she says laughingly. She stands up, moving back toward the kitchen. “Want a glass of wine?” she calls.

“Red, if you have it,” he answers.

Willow lets herself in, then, and he supposes it doesn’t hurt his case that he’s sitting on the sofa with her son sleeping in his arms. He shoots her a hesitant smile. “Hey.”

“Hello, Detective,” she greets politely, lowering herself a safe distance away from him on the sofa.

He chuckles. “I’m off the clock, and I just rocked your son to sleep,” he comments. “It’s just Chase.”

“Okay, Chase.” The corner of her lip quirks up, like she’s fighting a smile. She sighs, leans further into the cushions. He likes that she doesn’t seem uncomfortable around him, considering the way they left things last time they spoke. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up rocking my son to sleep?”

“He was inconsolable when I got here,” he says as Willow gently lifts the baby from his arms. He kind of misses the weight when it’s gone. He turns his body to face her, just a little bit. “Lulu needed to finish dinner, so she handed him to me. I’m not sure what I did, but I guess I did something right.”

Willow hums, her smile almost reflexive as she looks down at her son. “I guess you did.”

“Apparently he didn’t nap today,” Chase explains. “He must be exhausted.”

She sighs, bouncing him a little as he stirs. “He’s been doing that lately,” she says.

Thankfully, Lulu emerges from the kitchen before an awkward silence can settle over them, two glasses of wine in tow. “Hey, girl,” she greets, handing Chase his glass. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know,” Willow sighs, shifting Jaxon to rest against her shoulder. She leans back into the cushions, props her feet up on the coffee table. “Never-ending parent-teacher conferences where no one actually listens to a word I say.”

Lulu hums, sipping her wine. “Sounds about right,” she jokes. “Listen, dinner’s almost ready, if you want to stay… you could let Jaxon sleep for a while, have a glass of wine.”

Willow glances at Chase briefly, then back to her son, and he watches the internal debate play out on her face. She turns back to him, narrows her eyes at him playfully. “No interrogations,” she demands with a smirk.

He smiles sheepishly, holds his hands up in surrender. “I promise,” he chuckles.

She sighs, nods in resignation. “Okay. Sure. Thanks, Lulu.”

Lulu visibly brightens. “I’ll go pour another glass,” she smiles, moving back toward the kitchen.

He turns back to face Willow as she looks back down at her son. He exhales slowly. Despite her cool exterior, she’s clearly not pleased with how their last conversation ended, and if he’s honest, neither is he. Maybe he didn’t think anything of it, but from her perspective, he crossed a line, and he feels like he needs to make it right.

“I need to apologize.”

She looks up in surprise, then quickly rearranges her face to hide it. She clears her throat. “Apologize for what?”

He swallows, breaks her gaze for a moment before he meets her eyes again. “For sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. You’re right - you’ve clearly got things handled, and it’s none of my business, in any capacity. I’m sorry for making assumptions.”

She smiles, running her hand over Jaxon’s back. “I appreciate the apology, but it’s not necessary.” She shrugs. “It’s your job to investigate people, right?”

He smirks, tilts his head in question. “Unless you’ve committed some sort of crime since we last spoke, I have no reason to investigate you, do I?”

She purses her lips, her eyes sparkling in amusement. (He’s only a little bit mesmerized.) “No, I suppose not,” she muses.

“And yet,” he emphasizes. “I did it anyway, so I’m apologizing and pleading for your forgiveness.” He smiles when she laughs again. “Whatever you’re dealing with… if you’re not in danger, or anything, then I’m going to, as Lulu said, put away my badge.”

She quirks a brow skeptically. “From what I’ve seen of you, I don’t know if it’s possible for you to _not_ be in detective mode,” she smirks. She has a point, but he won’t tell her that. “But I appreciate the attempt.”

And because he’s a glutton for punishment… “Let me make it up to you,” he insists. “Name your price.”

He wanted to offer to take her to dinner, or buy her coffee - at this point, he’ll take any opportunity to see her again, to find out more about her. But he figures this will be a good way to gauge if that would be something she’d be interested in. He’s half hoping she’ll suggest it, take the pressure off of him. He’s not a wimp, okay? He’s just not really a fan of rejection, and he knows he’s already on thin ice.

She considers for a moment, bites her lip in contemplation. “Actually,” she begins. “Speaking of your job, my class needs volunteers to come in and speak for Career Day in a few weeks. You know, if you really want to make it up to me.”

And okay, it’s not dinner or coffee or anything even remotely personal, but it’s an invitation to see her again, and he’s in no position to turn it down. “Consider it done.”

“Then I’ll consider you forgiven.”

She smiles then, a real, genuine smile this time, and he decides that he wouldn’t mind if she threw that smile his way every once in a while. If he plays his cards right, maybe he’ll even be the one to put it there.

(He’s been told before he sometimes jumps too quickly. Good to know some things never change.)

… … …

In the four months she’s lived in Port Charles, she has rarely exposed Jaxon to the public, if she can avoid it. Logistically, she can’t keep him hidden all the time, but she tries to keep him as anonymous as possible in any way she can. She still feels a cold chill of terror every time she takes Jaxon out in public, fearing that this will be the day when someone recognizes her and her secrets are no longer her own. Some might see it as dramatic and probably completely irrational, but the reality is that if anyone were to put any of the pieces of the puzzle together, it could be disastrous not just for her, but more importantly, for Jaxon.

But she can’t keep Jaxon holed up in her apartment or kangarooed to her chest forever, and she feels like now is a good time to get over her fears and live her life, so that Jaxon can live his, too. Conveniently, GH offers plenty of mommy-and-me classes that promote child development, and since Jaxon’s not in daycare, she wants to do whatever she can to provide him with a similar experience. Her teacher mind knows the importance of early childhood development, and there’s no such thing as _too_ early. Not to mention she figures it will be a nice way to focus her full attention on him, which is something she doesn’t always get to do in the hectic every day grind.

She picks the infant class on a Saturday morning, hoping that it won’t be too overwhelming, and wonders if maybe she’ll meet some other moms while she’s here. It would be nice, she muses, to connect with other mothers, maybe make a few friends that Jaxon could have playdates with down the road. She’s hesitant to put down too many roots here, for the most part, but she knows she needs to open herself up to the community, if anything just for the sake of her own sanity.

It might sound silly, but she doesn’t expect to see a man sitting across the circle from her, a baby about Jaxon’s age resting in his lap. And it’s not just the fact that he’s a man that sets him apart from the rest of the class - he’s dressed to the nines, a full suit and tie, clean shaven, well-groomed. He seems like a very important person, and while she’s impressed with a man who likely took the morning off work to bring his son to this class, she’s decidedly uncomfortable with the way he’s staring at her. He looks harmless, but men who look harmless can be entirely too deceiving, in her experience. She’s even more unnerved by the way he’s staring at Jaxon, like he recognizes him, somehow. But he can’t - it’s not possible, and she can’t let her mind go there, or she’ll never leave the house with him again. So she focuses on her son for the next hour, on giving him the one-on-one attention that he needs and she craves.

She’s packing up to leave at the end of the class when she feels someone’s eyes on her, at closer range than before. Her back stiffens, and she feels the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She just knows it’s the same man, she can feel it, and anxiety bubbles in her stomach. But she decides she won’t let this stranger intimidate her, so she steels herself, takes a deep breath, and turns around.

She makes direct eye contact with him, daring him to speak to her, and she can tell she catches him off guard. He opens his mouth to say something, seems to think better of it, and then opens his mouth again. “I’m sorry,” he sputters. “I don’t mean to stare, but…”

He seems very uncomfortable, like he wants her to say it’s okay, make him feel better, but she won’t. She just levels her gaze at him, patiently waiting for him to explain himself, and he finally continues. “Your son,” he finally says, and she goes very still. He clears his throat uneasily. “He’s about… four months old?”

She narrows her eyes skeptically, wondering why he’s so curious about her baby. “Yes,” she says cautiously. “Why?”

The man clears his throat again as he adjusts the baby in his arms, and she keeps her expression stern. She doesn’t know what the hell is going on here, but this creep better have a good explanation, or she’ll be calling Chase so fast…

(She doesn’t have time to think about why he crossed her mind so quickly. It would probably make her uneasy to unpack that, so she decides to gloss over it in her mind.)

“He’s the same age that my son would have been.”

His eyes shine with emotion, and she watches him swallow it down. She feels her cheeks warm in shame, then she furrows her brow in confusion, her eyes darting to the infant in his arms. “Um… would have been?” she asks delicately.

“Oh, yeah.” He breathes out a chuckle. “This is my godson. My uncle lets me take him to these classes every once in a while.” Well, that explains the suit. “You know, since I never got to…” he trails off, clears his throat again. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Every time I think I’m starting to move on…”

“It’s okay,” she blurts, stopping him from rambling. She can only imagine how painful it must be, explaining his grief to a stranger. She meets his eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

He nods gratefully, seeming to compose himself enough to shoot her a small smile. “I’m Michael,” he continues, just as she’s about to excuse herself. He extends his hand for her to shake, and she does, hesitantly. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Are you new to town?”

She swallows uneasily. This is the first time she’s really met someone that Lulu hasn’t already given her background on, and considering the way this conversation started, she’s wary of being too friendly with him. “I guess so, yeah. I’m… I’m Willow.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Willow.” She notices it, then, the sweet grin, the unassuming dimple in his cheek that she’s sure charms every woman with eyes in this town. Honestly, it’s like every guy in Port Charles stepped straight out of GQ, or something. “Hopefully I’ll be seeing more of you around.”

“I guess we’ll see.” She smiles thinly and finally pushes past him to leave. She feels his eyes on her as she walks away, and she wonders how she’s attracted more male attention with a baby in her arms than she has in her entire adult life.

She replays the conversation in her head for the rest of the day, trying to decode his reactions and assure herself that she doesn’t need to be concerned. Her unease doesn’t fully subside until later, when she calls Lulu to debrief the situation, and Lulu laughs as she explains that Michael is not only her cousin, but her brother-in-law. She feels silly for being so skeptical, and she decides not to mention that she was _this close_ to asking for Chase’s number to run a background check on the guy.

She decides not to dwell on it. She exposed her son to the outside world, and they both made it home in once piece. Even though she let her nerves get carried away, she still considers it a win, and a sign that maybe the world isn’t as dangerous as she’s conditioned herself to believe. Maybe she can settle in a little more, put down a few loose roots.

She’s been searching for a home all her life. It’s about time she found a place she can have it.

… … …

He normally doesn’t stop for coffee on his way to work. He really only needs one cup to get going in the morning, and he prefers to drink it at home, while he gets ready for the day. His mornings are so routine at this point that he rarely even thinks about deviating from it. But with his Career Day presentation today, he’s a little more nervous than usual, and he thinks an extra cup of coffee might help him be on his A-game.

He’s never been one for public speaking. He hated giving speeches in high school, and if he ever got promoted to police commissioner, all those press conferences would probably give him an ulcer. But it’s not just that he’s nervous to speak in front of a group; there’s one person in particular he wants to impress.

And it just so happens that she’s parked at a table outside Kelly’s when he arrives.

“ _Playing hooky?_ ” he asks, smirking when she looks up from her work to meet his eyes. “ _You know I could arrest you for that_.”

She leans back in her chair, crosses her arms, shoots him a smirk in return. “You look sharp, Detective,” she comments. “If you’d been in uniform like this when we first met, maybe I wouldn’t have caused such trouble.”

Chase hums. Maybe it’s true what they say, that women love a man in uniform. “Or maybe you would’ve caused more trouble.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Down, boy,” she warns laughingly. She leans forward, rests her elbows on the table, and he boldly takes the seat across from her. “Looks like you’re ready for your presentation today.”

He nods, hopefully portraying a sense of confidence that he’s not sure he really feels. “I think it’ll be a good one. I’ve got some surprises up my sleeve.” She quirks her brow in question, and he chuckles. “For the kids.”

“Right.” She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and his breath catches in his throat. “For the kids.”

Her eyes bore into his, and he’s almost unnerved by the way she’s looking at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she’s flirting with him. He’s not naïve enough to think he’s won her over with an apology and a glimpse at his full uniform, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t think she’s coming around.

“I think I’ll blow the competition out of the water,” he smirks, trying to reign in his thoughts, keep himself on track. He can’t afford to be distracted today. (Too late.)

She raises her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize it was a competition,” she comments laughingly. “Are you sure you’ve got what it takes? You don’t even know who else is coming.”

He smirks. “Well, I know you invited Lulu, and Michael, and my brother. And Commissioner Ashford told me Stella’s presenting. Is there anyone else I should know about?”

The look of shock on her face is so entertaining that he has to bite back a laugh. “Okay, it’s kind of creepy how everyone in Port Charles either knows one another or is related somehow,” she insists. “Are there any two people in this town who aren’t connected in, like, five different ways?”

It’s an astute observation, one that he learned himself not too long after moving here. For someone who claims she doesn’t want to put down roots here, she’s clearly embedding herself firmly into the soil here in Port Charles. He hums. “Probably not,” he agrees. “Apparently, you’ve made a few connections yourself, so you fit right in around here.”

She purses her lips. “You may have a point,” she concedes. “And to answer your question, no, there’s no one else you should know about. Does that make you more or less confident?”

He laughs. “That depends. Am I going first, to set the bar, or do I have to follow someone else’s act?”

She smirks. “You’ll just have to wait and see, Detective.” She gathers her papers, then, and tucks them into her bag as she stands to leave. “See you at school.”

He can’t help but stare as she walks away, can’t help but contemplate what it is about her that captivates him. She doesn’t take any of his bullshit. She has a witty comeback for all of his lame jokes, and he feels like every attempt to seem charming just makes her roll her eyes at him. He kind of liked it better when she was afraid he was going to dig up all her secrets; at least then he knew he was affecting her somehow. At the very least, she’s entertained by him, and he thinks he can work with that.

His determined preparation for Career Day pays off, and she’s impressed, he can tell. He charms all the kids, answers all their questions and keeps them entertained and involved throughout his presentation. Not that the other presenters didn’t do just as well, but he will say that he thinks the addition of Thor to the lineup really sealed the deal.

Even if he doesn’t get her number, or a date - even if all he gets is that little grin she gave him when she thanked him for his time - he’ll consider this day a win, and a step in the right direction.

… … …

She takes the opportunity to observe him as he gives his Career Day presentation. It’s not just the childlike excitement in his eyes as he describes the duties of his position, or the calm way he explains concepts that might be difficult for the kids to understand. It’s the way he interacts with them. She can tell he loves kids, and he’s _so good_ with them; he stoops to their level, makes them feel special, included.

And really, that uniform… _damn_.

She’s never really taken the time to appreciate the way he looks, hasn’t let herself go there quiet yet, and it’s such a cliché that she hates to even think it, but that uniform… he really does wear it well. It’s not fair, and she’s almost certain he’s doing it on purpose. She tries not to notice the way he’s constantly meeting her eyes, as if his presentation is as much for her as it is for the kids. She knows he’s interested in her - he hasn’t exactly been subtle, though she’s sure that’s his intent - and while it still makes her uneasy, the more she gets to know him, the more she thinks she wouldn’t be opposed to spending a little time with him on a more personal level.

Provided he wears the uniform, of course.

(She’s kidding. Kind of.)

She gives the kids a break after his presentation, to use the bathroom or get some water or stretch their legs, and she’s not at all surprised when Lulu takes the opportunity to sidle up next to her at the front of the classroom. “Chase looks good today,” she comments innocently, studying Willow out of the corner of her eye.

Willow rolls her eyes. “You say that as if I haven’t noticed,” she agrees, keeping her voice low to avoid prying ears. (Read: Charlotte.)

Lulu is almost giddy at her response, sips her water to hide her smile. “I think that’s the first time I’ve mentioned Chase that you haven’t immediately gotten defensive,” she observes.

Willow sighs. “Yeah, well, the more I get to know him… the more I want to know about him,” she confesses. “And he’s clearly interested in me, so why shouldn’t I see where it goes?”

Lulu squints at her. “The fact that you’re asking instead of telling me says that you’re not entirely sure,” she says. “But I can assure you that if you’re going to jump back into the dating world, Chase is one of the best guys I know. And I know a lot of really great guys.” She wraps her hand loosely around Willow’s wrist, squeezes reassuringly. “I say if he asks you out, go for it, girlfriend.”

Willow nods and smiles, hoping it doesn’t portray the low-grade anxiety now building in her stomach. She just has to remind herself that going on a date with him doesn’t mean she has to tell him everything. Though it makes her uneasy to think that, depending on where things go, she may one day have to open up to him, to give him details about her past that she’d rather not re-live… she’s starting to think she’ll regret it if she doesn’t at least give him a shot.

It’s a pretty big leap of faith, considering her history with men. It’s a good thing she has a feeling it’ll work out pretty well in the end.

… … …

_“If I take your number for my brother, could I… use it? To ask you out sometime?”_

_“Why can’t you just ask now?”_

_“Will you go out with me?”_

_“I’m working!”_

_“When you’re not.”_

_“That’s rare.”_

_“Weekends too?”_

_“Yep. … Maybe I could be persuaded if you bring Thor.”_

_“Oh, that can be arranged. When?”_

_“I didn’t say yes yet.”_

_“But you haven’t said no, so.”_

_“I’m a little rusty.”_

_“Me too. We can see who’s the worst first date.”_

_“I’d knock you out round one.”_

_“You already have.”_

… … …

He’s convinced that the universe is conspiring against him, to make sure he never gets to actually take Willow on a date. In the two weeks since Career Day, since he finally got her number, it’s been one thing after another - Curtis’ bachelor party, and then the Ashford wedding, and then, of course, shit hit the fan. Kiki’s murder, combined with the most confusing investigation he’s ever been part of, have had him working 18-hour days and basically sleeping at his desk. He hardly gets a free moment to go home and shower, let alone make a phone call.

He wants to do this right. He doesn’t want their time together to be short-changed by his job, and he wants to make sure what when they _do_ go out, he can focus his full attention on her. She deserves that much. Call him crazy, but he doesn’t think take-out, beer and a Sox game while he answers texts and phone calls every five minutes makes a very good first date.

It’s ten a.m. on a Saturday morning, and he’s coming to the end of a shift that began at four p.m. yesterday, and he’s so damn tired that he’s not even sure he should be driving right now. But Commissioner Ashford promised him the rest of the weekend off, with no interruptions, if he would go meet with the medical examiner, so of course he took her up on it. He’s beyond ready to get this over with and go home, take a shower, take a nap, eat food that’s not takeout. Not necessarily in that order.

By the time the meeting is over, he’s practically dead on his feet. He’s so distracted by the thought of falling into his bed that he almost collides with Willow as he comes around a corner.

Suddenly, he’s wide awake.

“ _Hey_ ,” greets lamely. He blinks, willing the fog to leave his brain so that maybe he can formulate actual sentences. Smooth moves, Detective.

“ _Hello, Detective,_ ” she returns with a coy smile. “ _That is your first name, right? Detective?_ ”

He lets the corner of his mouth quirk. He tries to think of a witty response, maybe make her laugh somehow, but he’s so eager to apologize that that’s what comes out instead. “ _I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to call you_.”

She shakes her head in mock disappointment. “ _If I had a nickel for every time I heard that…_ ”

He fights the urge to roll his eyes, not at her, but at himself. God, she turns him into a complete amateur. He’s grateful that she seems amused, because most women would be offended, probably even angry that he hasn’t called her yet, especially with a lame excuse like the one he just gave. But he’s quickly realizing that Willow is not like most women, and though it unnerves him a little bit, he’s beginning to think it might work in his favor.

It’s then that he notices she’s holding Jaxon, who makes his presence known with a whine. He seems none too happy that he’s been interrupted, likely on his way for a nap or a meal. He watches with interest as Willow quickly soothes him as he whimpers, swaying gently as she runs her hand over his head. “What brings you two to GH? Is Jaxon okay?”

Willow furrows her brow in confusion, and he has a strange urge to run his fingertip over the worry lines on her forehead. Thankfully, it dissipates when her expression clears and she smiles. “Oh. Yes, everything’s fine. We’ve been doing these mommy-and-me classes on Saturday mornings.” She rolls her eyes at herself, and her smile thins ever so slightly, her cheeks tinged pink. “No wonder you haven’t called me yet,” she jokes weakly. “I’m sure you’re enthralled by our exciting lives, Detective.”

So she thinks she’s boring to him, or something. He’s amused, really, because it couldn’t be further from the truth. He can’t help but smile. “You have no idea,” he says truthfully.

“What about you?” she asks, adjusting Jaxon on her hip. She quirks her brow. “ _Are you here on official business, or is something wrong with you?_ ”

“ _Official business_ ,” he chuckles. “Which is why I haven’t been able to call you yet.” He could leave it at that, tell her he’ll call when he gets a chance, but since he’s technically free tomorrow night, he figures she should take a shot. “ _But, you know, the Commissioner always tells us we should take breaks every now and then. Supposed to keep us sharp._ ”

She quirks her brow with a smirk. “ _And what does this have to do with me?_ ”

He rubs his fingertips together nervously by his side. The moment of truth. “ _Well, I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow night. I’d like to take you to dinner_.”

Simple, uncomplicated. No fake attempts at charm. If she turns him down now, he won’t have anything else to blame.

A smile creeps across her face, and his heart flips over in his chest. “ _My own police escort to dinner?_ ”

“I was thinking off the clock,” he smirks. “But I can arrange for that, if you’d like.”

“Relax, Detective,” she laughs, and his breath catches at the sound. She meets his eyes, exhales. “It’s a school night.”

“I promise I’ll have you home by curfew,” he jokes nervously.

She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling, so he’s feeling optimistic. She purses her lips, considering, and it feels like a lifetime before she finally speaks again. “I’ll have to check with Lulu,” she says. “Make sure she’s okay with watching Jaxon.”

“Of course,” he nods, and he begins to wonder if she’s dragging this out just to watch him squirm. It’s working.

“But,” she sighs. “I’m thinking that since she tried to set us up in the first place, she’ll jump at the chance, so… how about I meet you at the park tomorrow evening?”

He bites his lip to prevent his grin from splitting his face in half. “It’s a date.”

He doesn’t even remember the drive home, honestly. His mind is spinning, whirling with ideas of places he could take her, topics of conversation, what he’ll wear. He doesn’t know if he’s ever been this nervous for a date before, but it’s an excited kind of nervous, because he has a really, really good feeling about where this is going to lead.

It’s a date. One he’s been waiting for. And one that he’s determined to make worth the wait.

… … …


	3. counting the steps to the door of your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "don't dream it's over" by sixpence none the richer.
> 
> { I own nothing }  
> & any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show & is credited to the writers. :-)

… … …

“ _We can see who’s the worst first date,_ ” he’d said.

Yeah, he has a feeling he won that competition, no contest.

And okay, in hindsight, he can see that it was totally presumptuous of him to bring her back to his apartment. He honestly didn’t even think about how it would look to her, that he was bringing her back to his ‘lair’ (he still can’t believe she used that word) on their first date. But his primary goal is to get to know her, to spend time just the two of them, and sitting in a generically ‘fancy’ restaurant across from her felt too impersonal. He didn’t want to put on a show for her; he wanted her to have a glimpse of who he is, in a natural environment. He wanted to cook her a nice dinner, open a bottle of wine, and get lost in conversation.

But she had every right to question his motives, because despite how connected he already feels to her, the fact is they hardly know anything about one another. And if her past is anything like he suspects, she’s likely been given good reason to question just about everything. He’s just thankful that she gave him another shot, because if she hadn’t…

Well. He thinks by the way things are going, it’ll be a lot easier for him to ask her on a second date now than it would have been an hour ago.

“Your turn.”

He rubs his knuckles against his chin absentmindedly, pursing his lips as he contemplates his next move. He can honestly say that he’s never played twenty questions on a first date before, but it’s proven to be a very informative exercise. “Favorite baseball team?”

She scoffs at him. “Are you kidding?” She smirks. “Mets, all the way.”

He closes his eyes and sighs, shaking his head in disappointment. “I guess it’s better than the Yankees.”

“You’re damn right it is,” she laughs, her eyes sparkling as she sips her wine. She pulls her legs up onto the couch, adjusting her dress and clearly making herself right at home in a way that makes his cheeks warm and his fingers itch to touch her, just to pull her a little closer. Once she they got past the initial awkwardness of the evening, they’ve settled into a nice rhythm of conversation. It feels effortless with her, and he doesn’t think it’s just the wine talking. He likes her like this; relaxed, comfortable, free of obligation. There’s no tension, no uneasiness, no awkward silences. Just the two of them, taking it slow, seeing where the conversation takes them.

“Okay, my turn,” she says, nestling further into the cushions. “Favorite place in the world.”

He hums contemplatively, sipping his wine, but the answer comes relatively easily to him. “Nantucket.”

She quirks her brow in question. “At the risk of using up another question: Why?”

He chuckles. “I won’t penalize you for that one.” He shifts his body, turns to face her just a little bit more, and his knee brushes hers inadvertently. “My parents have the best little house on the water. We used to spend every summer there, and a few long weekends during the school year when we could. My favorite is the springtime, before all the tourists swarm in.”

She nods appreciatively, pressing her lips together to hide her smile. “You’re pretty surprising, Detective Chase.”

He meets her eyes, loves the sparkle of interest he sees there. “As are you, Miss Tait.” He clears his throat. “Biggest regret.”

He caught her off guard, he can tell, and he’ll admit that was his intent. He likes this light-hearted banter they’ve got going, but she’s obviously got some heavy demons in her past - as does he - and he wants to know everything about her. While he doesn’t expect a full confessional tonight, or anytime soon, he figures this would be a good place to start.

She meets his eyes briefly, seems to steel herself, takes a generous sip of wine. “My biggest regret,” she sighs, fiddling with her near-empty glass as she mulls over her words. “My biggest regret would be not recognizing a toxic situation until it was too late to get out unscathed.”

It’s like being struck by lightning, hearing those words leave her mouth. When her eyes meet his again, it’s like they’re staring down into his soul, like she knows all of his deepest secrets and most personal scars. He knows, right then and there, that this is not just a good first date connection - this is a once-in-a-lifetime connection.

Her body feels like a magnet. He wants to lean into it, wants to move his body closer to hers just to be near her, to feel close to someone in a way he hasn’t in a very long time. But she finally tears her gaze from his, blinks the fog away and takes a final sip of her wine, setting her empty glass down on the coffee table.

She takes a deep breath, smiles. “Favorite ice cream flavor.”

He clears his throat, trying to force his mind back into focus, and chugs the rest of his wine. He sets his glass next to hers emphatically. “Cookies and cream.”

Her jaw drops, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Did you just read my mind?”

He chuckles, but her choice of words hits too close to home after the moment they just shared. He meets her eyes, holds her gaze. “It’s only fair, after it seems like you just read mine.”

She smiles nervously at him, her cheeks tinged pink, and it’s nice to know he’s not the only one affected by the current of electricity buzzing between them. He decides he needs to leave the night on a lighter note and stands up, grabbing their wine glasses as he goes.

“Last question,” he says, circling around the sofa to the bar. “And this is a serious one, so I need you to be straight up with me.”

He can’t see her, as he’s busying himself with closing up the wine bottle, but he hears the shuffle of her standing, dodging furniture, moving toward him. “Shoot,” she says calmly, casually. But when he turns to face her, her shoulders are tense, and her eyes are narrowed. She’s nervous. (She shouldn’t be.)

He takes a deep breath, pauses for dramatic effect. “Would you still call this place my ‘lair’?”

He surprises a very sweet, very genuine laugh out of her, and his grin splits his face so wide it makes him chuckle. He’s completely captivated by her, and he hopes it’s not too obvious, because he’d like to maintain some semblance of cool factor before they’ve even gone on a second date.

But she’s smiling at him, and her eyes are sparkling with amusement like he’s already learned they do when she’s about to challenge him, and Jesus, she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He can’t help but step closer to her.

“I suppose that will depend on how the second date goes.”

He feels like he hides his surprise well, narrows his eyes playfully. “Second date?”

“You can’t think that you’ve completely redeemed yourself for the way the night started with a little shrimp scampi and a game of twenty questions,” she retorts, smirking as she crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s gonna take more than that to convince me that you’re worth the trouble.”

“Trouble,” he scoffs. “I am a man of the law.”

“Which means that inevitably, trouble will always find you,” she quips with a smile.

He takes another tiny step closer to her, just to gauge her reaction, and he’s pleasantly surprised when she stands her ground. She tilts her head up to meet his eyes, and he’s itching to touch her, to rest a hand on her hip, or even just brush her hand with his own. She swallows subtly, and just as his eyes drift down to her lips, she suddenly steps back and clears her throat.

“It’s late,” she says absently, moving toward her purse and jacket by the door. She pulls out her phone, illuminates the screen. “No missed calls, but I really need to go get Jaxon from Lulu.”

He shakes his head just a little to clear the cobwebs away. He almost forgot, over the course of their evening, that she’s a mother. He likes the side of her that he got to see tonight; he feels like maybe this was the first night in a long time that she got to act her age, to be someone other than Miss Tait or Jaxon’s mom. He kind of likes that he can pull that side out of her, that he could be the one to give her an outlet that she probably needs, even if just for a night. “Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Of course. I’ll walk you out. Uh, let me know when you get home. Which I’m sure will be over an hour from now, if I know Lulu like I think I do.”

Willow laughs. “Got any tips for evasive maneuvers to avoid interrogation?”

He hums, shrugs his shoulders. “Plead the fifth,” he suggests with a smirk.

She smiles, laughs again, and then he helps her into her coat and walks her to her car before he can do something stupid like kiss her and tell her he loves her.

(He doesn’t. Not yet. But he thinks he could, someday, if she’ll let him.)

… … …

She wonders if it was part of his master plan, to make it impossible to take her mind off him.

If it was, he certainly succeeded.

It’s been almost a week since their first date, and though they’ve hardly spoken save for a few texts - his work schedule really is insane these days - she finds that almost any free moment she has, she’s thinking about him. When she makes her coffee in the mornings, she absently wonders whether he takes his with cream, or sugar, or both, or neither. When she picks up takeout from Charlie’s one afternoon, she wonders if he normally orders the wings or the burger. When she sips her wine after Jaxon’s gone to bed, she wonders if he’s sipping his own glass, thinking of her, too. She’s almost embarrassed by how quickly he’s invaded her every thought, but if the frequency of his texts is any indication, she’d say she’s probably not alone.

She still can’t figure out why she’s so drawn to him, why he makes her want to throw away all her resolutions and principles about not getting involved with anyone. Sure, he looks the way he does, but she feels like her physical attraction to him barely scratches the surface of why she suddenly likes him so much.

He makes her feel safe. And it’s not just about the fact that he’s a cop, or that he’s clearly passionate about justice, not to mention a stickler for the rulebook. Despite her minor meltdown over the initial shock of having their first date at his apartment, she never once truly felt like she needed to be wary of him. And the more she talks to him, the more she feels a level of connection she’s never known before; the way he looked at her, after she voiced her biggest regret, was like he understood her on a level she never expected to be understood.

It’s thrilling, exhilarating, and yes, downright terrifying.

Maybe that’s why, despite her clear interest in Chase, she somehow ends up on a date with Michael.

Okay, she’s not sure if it actually counts as a date, but considering the way he’s flirting with her, she thinks he may have gotten the wrong impression. When she asked him out to lunch after playgroup, it was because she could tell he was feeling low, and she’s desperate for a little adult interaction. Lulu’s busy with family today, and she knows Chase is working until late tonight, and since Michael got the stamp of approval from Lulu, she doesn’t think twice about inviting him to Kelly’s for a sandwich.

She’s excited about where things are going with Chase, and she’s not looking to date anyone else. But considering the way he’s been flirting with her since they arrived, she’s afraid she may have inadvertently led Michael to believe otherwise.

“So,” he begins, adjusting Wiley in his lap. “What brought you to Port Charles?”

She balks momentarily at what feels like a very personal question, until she brings herself back to earth and reminds herself that it’s a natural topic to be curious about. “Uh…” she laughs to cover the nerves. “Just… needed a change.”

He studies her for a moment, then nods, seeming to accept that he won’t get much more out of her than that. “Well, you picked an interesting place,” he muses. “Most people end up here because they’re looking for a long-lost parent or child or because they have a score to settle with someone.”

Yeah, she’s beginning to get that impression. “It does seem like everyone here is related, or at least connected somehow. I mean, take you and Lulu, being cousins and in-laws at the same time.”

He chuckles. “I still can’t believe she never introduced us. Normally she’s chomping at the bit to introduce me to anyone she meets who’s beautiful and single.”

She laughs uneasily. “I, uh… I’m trying to keep a low profile,” she says cryptically. “So it was probably my fault, actually.”

Michael furrows his brow, clearly concerned. “Is everything okay?”

She waves him off quickly, suddenly desperate to either turn this conversation around or get the hell out of here. This is why she hasn’t met very many people since she’s been here; there’s just too much that she can’t explain. “Yeah, yeah, of course. I just don’t want to attract any enemies. Seems like it’s almost inevitable in this town,” she jokes.

He doesn’t look like he believes her, but he smiles and chuckles anyway. “Yeah, maybe a low profile is the way to go in Port Charles,” he muses. He clears his throat then. “I’m, uh… I’m glad we ended up meeting somehow, though.”

She feels a pang of guilt, and she has a feeling he means more than he’s saying. “Yeah, it’s nice to know someone at the mommy-and-me playgroup,” she teases.

“Ha, ha.” He rolls his eyes, smiling. “Maybe we should go out sometime, see if we get along as well without the kids as we do with them.”

She immediately sees Chase’s face in her mind’s eye. There’s a voice in the back of her mind telling her that she’s allowed to go out with whoever she wants; one good date does not a relationship make, and he has no claim or hold over her. She could go out with Michael, spend a little more time with him, if she really wanted to.

The problem is that she doesn’t really want to, and she knows that Chase is the reason why.

“Listen, Michael,” she sighs, smiling hesitantly. “I think I gave you the wrong idea, asking you here with me today.”

He furrows his brow, chuckles nervously. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve just started seeing someone,” she admits, reaching down to rock Jaxon’s car seat as he stirs from his nap. “It’s pretty new, and it’s not like we’re in a relationship or anything, but I just… I’m not really looking to date anyone else, so…”

He won’t meet her eyes now, clears his throat uncomfortably. Then he shrugs, exhales, smiles. “Someone beat me to it, huh?” he jokes. He breathes out a laugh. “Wow.”

She feels her cheeks heat up uncomfortably, and she laughs nervously. “I’m sorry, Michael,” she says sincerely. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Nah,” he protests, holding his hand up to stop her. He smiles, genuinely this time. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who was reading between lines that weren’t there.”

He’s saying all the right things, and she thinks he probably means them, but his face is a carefully constructed mask of understanding. She wonders, absently, how many times in his life he’s truly been turned down. Considering he looks the way he does, and knowing who he is - namely, the heir to the two most prominent families in this city - she would imagine that number is pretty low. She doesn’t want to hurt him, but she knows what’s in her heart, and she owes it to Chase - and to herself - to give things a chance to play out.

“Well,” Michael says finally. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of one another anyway, so we might as well be friends, right?”

There’s a crooked grin on his lips and a sparkle in his eye that tells her that this isn’t over, but in the name of making peace and keeping things simple, she thinks it can’t hurt to keep things friendly. At the very least, she’ll be able to smile and wave when she sees him out and about, and considering her main priority is to avoid making enemies…

“Sure,” she smiles hesitantly. “Friends sounds good.”

She feels a sudden urge to apologize, yet again, and then decides she doesn’t need to. She’s entitled to her feelings, and right now, her feelings are for Chase. She’s been searching all week for a sense of clarity, of direction in how she feels, and she supposes in a weird, roundabout way, that’s exactly what she got.

… … …

The week since their first date has been a lot like all the weeks before it - hectic and exhausting. Though he’s been working practically nonstop, he’s made it a priority to text Willow whenever he has a free moment, just to make sure she knows he’s still interested. Despite how well their date went, and though she pretty much already promised him a second date, he still gets the feeling she’s not one hundred percent sure about anything at this point. So he’s somewhat surprised, in the best way possible, when she calls him Sunday morning to ask him out to breakfast. He’s excited to continue to spend time with her, in pretty much any capacity, and it’s kind of nice to know that she feels similarly enough to ask _him_ out, instead.

He was really looking forward to sleeping in today before going in for his afternoon shift at the PD. He thinks it’s pretty telling that one call from her has him jumping out of bed like he slept ten hours instead of four.

“I’m glad you called,” he says with a smile as he sips his coffee. He typically gets his coffee at Kelly’s, just because it’s more convenient on his way to the station, but he’s starting to think he needs to stop by Charlie’s more often. If there’s one thing Julian Jerome knows how to do, it’s make a damn good cup of coffee. He sets his mug down, looks up to meet her eyes. “I wanted to call you this week, but…”

“You don’t have to explain anything,” she interrupts, leaning her elbows on the table toward him. She smiles. “I know you must have been working crazy hours this week, trying to catch whoever’s terrorizing the city. Have you been sleeping at all?”

He wonders if he looks tired, rubs his knuckles against the scruff on his chin that hasn’t been trimmed in days. “Enough,” he hedges.

She narrows her eyes. “If I may be frank, you look like the only reason you got out of bed this morning was…”

“To see you?” he smiles, thoroughly enjoying the way her cheeks flush and she bites her lip. “You’re not wrong. I got home from the station around four this morning and fell straight into bed.”

She reaches across the table and swats at his forearm where it’s resting on the tabletop. “Chase!” she scolds, and he chuckles in surprise. “You should have slept in. Don’t you have to work this afternoon?”

He bites his lip, fighting a smile. He loves little moments like this, when she gives him a little glimpse into a side of her he’s never seen before. He’s never really had someone other than his parents to genuinely care for his wellbeing, and he has to admit that it’s kind of nice. “And miss out on my chance to atone for my first date missteps?” he smirks.

She rolls her eyes, a smile attempting to fight through her scowl. “We could have gone out another time,” she says seriously.

In a moment of boldness, he reaches across the table to catch her hand, holds it firmly in his. “Honestly, after the way things started, I’m grateful for any time you let me spend with you.”

She levels her gaze at him again, and this time he can’t help but smile. “Buttering me up is not going to make me forget that I’m upset with you. I admire your hard work, Detective, but if you don’t take care of yourself, how are you supposed to take care of the good people of Port Charles?”

“Don’t worry, _mom_ ,” he teases, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll make sure to get plenty of sleep when this is all over.” He sits back in his chair, taking the opportunity to switch the focus off himself. “Speaking of, how’s Jaxon doing?”

She sighs, laces her fingers with his absently. “He’s okay. He’s teething, so he hasn’t been sleeping much this week either, which means that I’m not sleeping much by association.” A sweet little grin graces her lips. “But I’m taking advantage of the extra snuggle time before he starts crawling and wants nothing to do with me anymore.”

“Oh, please,” Chase scoffs, using his free hand to sip his coffee. “A mother-son relationship is too special to be separated by anything, including a harmless developmental milestone.”

“You say it’s harmless now.” She narrows her eyes playfully. “Until I have to baby-proof not just my apartment, but probably Lulu’s house, too, and something tells me your help would be enlisted in that endeavor.”

“I’d be happy to help,” he grins sincerely.

She sits back in her chair, fiddling with the handle on her coffee mug, biting back a sweet smile. It’s his favorite smile of hers, and one that he’s always surprised he can pull out of her. “So you and your mom… are you close, then?”

His smile is almost reflexive. “Yeah, we’ve always been pretty close. It’s hard, now that my folks live in California, but I call her at least once a week, make sure she and my dad are doing okay.”

“Must be nice, though, to have both of them to lean on,” she muses. He’s beginning to wonder if she’s doing this on purpose; making cryptic comments just to keep him on his toes. She pulls her sleeves up over her hands to ward off the December chill, which pulls her hand away from his, and he misses the contact when it’s gone.

“Yeah.” He thanks the waiter as his omelet is placed in front of him. “Christmas is my mom’s favorite time of year. We used to have all kinds of traditions, starting on December first and going all the way through New Year’s Day.” He can’t help but smile, remembering coming home from school to the smell of gingerbread in the oven and Christmas carols on the stereo. It’s not the same, he thinks wistfully, celebrating the holidays without his mom around.

“I’ve always been fascinated by Christmas traditions,” she admits, taking a bite of one of her pancakes.

“Did you have any, growing up?” he wonders.

Her eyes cloud over, just a little bit, before she composes herself and the fog disappears. Not for the first time, he wishes she would open up to him, just a little bit more than she already does. “We never really celebrated Christmas,” she admits. “My childhood was a little bit… unconventional.”

He decides if she’s going to give him little glimpses, he might as well ask for the whole picture. “How’s that?”

She shrugs, not meeting his eyes as she picks around her plate with her fork. “My mom and I, we were always moving around, trying to find a place to settle down, somewhere to belong. We never stayed in one place for very long, so there was never really an opportunity to establish traditions of any kind.”

He takes a bite of his omelet, studies her for a moment. She’ll hardly meet his eyes, and he doesn’t like it. “Sounds kind of lonely,” he murmurs.

She smiles, but it looks a little bit forced this time. “It’s nice to finally feel like I’ve found somewhere that could be home,” she continues.

_Could be_. He feels a little pang of sadness, that she’s been running for so long she doesn’t know what home feels like anymore. He clears his throat. “And your mom?” He cuts into his omelet. “Has she found somewhere that could be home?”

Now she _really_ won’t meet his eyes, and he wonders if he’s struck a nerve, inadvertently. “I guess she did,” Willow says, and he detects a whole lot of bitterness and maybe a trace of sadness in her tone. “We, uh… we don’t keep in touch.”

Yeah, he definitely struck a nerve. She’s beginning to shut down, and their conversation has suddenly turned very heavy, and he feels a pull in his chest to find a way to make her smile again.

“Well, just so you know,” he says, leaning across the table conspiratorially, “I happen to have a secret talent for picking out the perfect Christmas tree for just about anyone.”

“Is that so?” she laughs, an amused twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, yeah,” he smirks. “You know, every kid deserves a magical first Christmas. Even if he won’t remember it. I’d be happy to be your personal Christmas coach, for you and Jaxon, if you’d like.”

There’s a real, genuine smile on her cheeks as she reaches across the table to take his hand in hers. “That actually sounds perfect.”

She clearly has a lot of ghosts in her past, a lot of pain that follows her. He also thinks she’s never had many people in her life she can really trust. He wants to prove to her that he can be that person for her, that she can open up to him; that he can handle the burden of whatever she’s faced in her past that has brought her to this point. But he won’t push her. He’ll let her open up to him on her own time, when she’s comfortable, and when she’s ready to talk, he’ll be ready to listen.

“Okay, then,” he smiles, signaling the waiter for the check. “How about this. Let’s go pick up Jaxon and I’ll put my Christmas tree talents to the test. What do you say?”

There’s that sweet smile again. “Jaxon’s first Christmas tradition,” she murmurs. “I would love to.”

He knows the holidays can be lonely, especially without family around. He hopes he can make hers just a little bit less so, the same way she’s done for him.

… … …

By the time Christmas Eve rolls around, she’s so exhausted that there’s part of her that doesn’t mind spending the holiday virtually alone. Between the leadup to Christmas Break at school and the fact that Jaxon has been overly fussy and clingy, she feels like she’s hardly slept at all and had almost no time to relax in the last couple of weeks. She feels badly that she has to turn down Chase’s invitation to spend Christmas Eve at his brother’s place, but Jaxon has been so fussy all day and she’s just gotten him to sleep. She can’t pass up the opportunity to curl up on the sofa with a glass of wine and wallow, just a little bit.

She doesn’t let herself do it very often. Between work and Jaxon and now, apparently, spending time with Chase, she doesn’t have much free time to think about anything, let alone to dwell on the way things used to be, on what could have been. It’s easier, most days, to just power through, focus on doing what she can in the present to provide for her son, and sometimes daydream about their future. But every once in a while, she just needs a moment to grieve.

Most of the time, it’s easy to convince herself that she’s better off without her mother. There are things that were done, things that were said, that she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to forgive, let alone forget. It sucks, though, to be without the one person who is supposed to look out for you, to be there for you no matter what. Hearing Chase talk about his mom the other day triggered a pang of loneliness that she hasn’t felt in a while, and it opened up some old wounds, ones she’s beginning to think might never truly heal.

Lulu invited her to spend Christmas with her and the kids at Laura’s house, but Willow is beginning to feel like she constantly intrudes on their family time, and she decided to give them a chance to enjoy one another’s company without she and Jaxon butting in. And honestly, she’s struggling to see the point in making a big deal out of it. Though she bought him a few gifts and he certainly enjoys the way their Christmas tree lights sparkle (courtesy of Chase, of course), it’s hard to truly enjoy a holiday she’s never really celebrated with a baby who won’t remember any of it anyway. She just needs to remind herself that while, yes, it kind of sucks to spend Christmas alone, she still has people around her who care, who are there for her and for Jaxon in ways she will be forever grateful for.

As if on cue, there’s a knock at her door. She furrows her brow in confusion, wondering who could be stopping by so late on Christmas Eve. She sets her glass of wine on the coffee table and stands from her perch on the sofa, pulling a robe over her shoulders to ward off the late December chill, and pulls the door open.

“Hi.” She blinks in surprise.

“Hi,” Chase smiles sheepishly. “Merry Christmas.”

“Uh… yeah, you too.” She’s suddenly very aware that she’s wearing what might be her rattiest pair of flannel pajamas, that her hair hasn’t been washed in at least three days, that her face is devoid of any makeup whatsoever. She was not at all prepared for anyone’s company, let alone a visit from a guy she’s very, very interested in.

“Sorry to just show up like this,” he laughs nervously.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry, please, come in.” She waves him inside and out of the cold, shutting the door behind him and subtly trying to smooth her hair. “I just poured a glass of wine, if you want one.”

He shakes his head. “No, that’s okay, I can’t stay long.” He nods toward the now-decorated tree, smiling. “It looks great.”

“All thanks to your tree selection expertise, Detective,” she smiles back, taking her seat on the sofa and sipping her wine to calm her nerves. He’s been over before, just a couple of times, but this feels different, for some reason, and it makes her a little uneasy.

It’s then that she notices a wrapped box in his hand, and as if reading her mind, he moves toward the sofa and takes a seat next to her. “I, uh… I brought you something.”

Her heart jumps in her chest, and she swallows thickly. “You… you got me a Christmas present?”

He shrugs his shoulders, a sweet grin on his cheeks that makes her stomach flutter. He takes a seat next to her, turns his body toward her. “I just saw it while I was out picking up a gift for Finn and Anna, and I thought of you, and…” he sighs, shakes his head. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

Everything inside her softens. “Chase,” she murmurs.

“I wanted to get Jaxon something, too, but I figure he has plenty of toys, and this could be for the both of you,” he rambles as she pulls the ribbon off the box, tears carefully into the paper.

She finds herself fighting back tears as she opens a beautiful, leather-bound photo album. _My First Year_ is printed on the front in beautiful script, and she swallows back a wave of emotion. “Chase,” she breathes out. “This is beautiful.”

“I know that you’re worried about making sure Jaxon has a good life,” he says quietly. “And I know that the best way to give him a good life is to make memories, and to capture them, so he’ll always know that even when things were hard, you did the best you could to make him happy.”

She’s not sure how he picked up on all of that, especially since she tries her best to keep most of their conversations light, tries to keep as much of the darkness at bay as possible. But he’s clearly paying attention, and she kind of loves that he’s willing to look past the façade she portrays, and instead of avoiding the cracks, he looks through them to see her. All of her.

A tear slips down her cheek, and she feels his hand ghost over her face, push her hair behind her ear tenderly. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he chuckles.

She chokes out a watery laugh, looking up at him in awe. “I didn’t get you anything,” she admits.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“But Chase, this is…” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “This is so thoughtful of you. I… thank you so much.”

He shrugs sheepishly. “I just want you to know that even if you don’t have your real family here with you, that doesn’t mean you don’t have people here who care about you.”

It’s exactly what she was thinking to herself earlier, but it’s so nice to hear it from someone else. She leans forward on impulse, resting her forehead against his, and their eyes meet briefly. She’s been so cautious over the last year or so, and she feels like it’s about time she stopped thinking so much and just jumped, for once.

She leans forward and presses her lips to his, and his hand cups her cheek, pulling her in just a little bit closer. Her hand falls to his shoulder, and she smiles into the kiss, giggles when she feels him smile in return.

He finally leans back just a fraction, and she opens her eyes to find that his are still closed, like he’s savoring the moment. He finally opens them again, skims his thumb across the tear tracks on her cheek. “I should go,” he sighs, leaning forward to kiss her forehead sweetly. He takes her hand and pulls her up from the sofa, and she follows him to the door.

“Thank you again,” she says quietly. Her hand falls to his hip almost absentmindedly, and he responds by sweeping her hair off her shoulder, his thumb brushing the side of her neck. “Really, you have no idea how much this means to me.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he says sincerely. He smiles, and she watches as he physically resists the urge to lean in and kiss her again. Part of her is glad, because she needs a few minutes to compose herself, and part of her is disappointed, because kissing him might be one of her new favorite things to do. “Merry Christmas, Willow.”

“Merry Christmas, Chase,” she smiles, holding the door as he lets himself out.

She leans against the door after she’s locked it behind him and she feels like she’s fifteen again, biting her lip to keep from smiling too big. She’s been kissed before, but she’s never been kissed like _that_. She’s never felt it from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes, never felt that invisible pull to just be near someone. She can practically _feel_ the way he cares for her in the way his fingers brush over her skin, and it’s exhilarating and a little bit terrifying all at the same time. She can very confidently say that she’s never felt about anyone the way she feels about Chase.

The more she gets to know him, the more she realizes he’s the exact opposite of everything she’s ever known, and if there’s one thing she’s grateful for, it’s just that.

… … …

He’s always been one of those annoying people who really, genuinely loves New Year’s Eve. It’s like hitting the reset button; an opportunity to reflect on the past year, to look forward with hope to the year ahead, to decide what things he’ll do differently. He almost never remembers any of his resolutions, which means he rarely follows through with them, but he appreciates the sentiment in the moment. In the past, he’s spent the holiday with his parents, or with friends, or even working. This year, he’s sitting on the sofa next to a beautiful woman while she rocks her five-month-old to sleep.

He can’t say this is how he would’ve pictured his New Year’s Eve, but he really, truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Of course, he asked Willow to be his date to the annual New Year’s Eve fundraiser at the Metro Court. He would’ve loved to have her on his arm, to happily fade into her shadow as she lit up the room in whatever gorgeous dress he’s sure she would’ve worn, to drink a glass of champagne with her and watch her eyes light up as she laughed and just let go. She deserves a night off, he told her, and he wanted to give it to her. And he wasn’t surprised at all when she declined, said she wanted to spend Jaxon’s first New Year’s Eve with him, even knowing that he probably wouldn’t be awake, let alone have any concept of the significance. He could tell, though, that he surprised her when he volunteered to stay home and enjoy it with the two of them.

“I would’ve thought you would want to spend your one night off doing something other than cleaning up spit-up,” she’d laughed.

Clearly, she still has no clue that he would take pretty much any opportunity to spend time with her.

They’d initially planned to spend the evening together at her apartment, but Lulu practically scoffed in their faces and insisted that they spend it with her and the kids at her place. She’d invited practically half the kids in Port Charles to spend the evening with Charlotte and Rocco, including Elizabeth Webber’s boys, as well as Maxie and baby James, and she insisted that having two more adults around would help keep her sane. Chase is pretty sure she just doesn’t want to spend the evening alone, and honestly, he can’t really blame her.

Besides, he muses, his lips stretching into a smirk. Between the current glow stick sword fight mayhem and watching Charlotte kick just about everyone’s butt in Mario Kart (including his own - twice), he’s laughed more tonight than he has in a while, and he needed it.

“I’m impressed,” Maxie says, her lips pursed teasingly as she plops herself down beside he and Willow on the sofa. Her glass of champagne sloshes onto his arm, just a drop, and he’s amused by how she doesn’t even seem to notice. The gleam in her eye says she’s probably at least a few glasses deep already. “James would never even _think_ about falling asleep with all this screaming going on, and yet Jaxon has no problem at all.”

Willow laughs beside him, and his gaze drifts down to her son, who’s eyes are drooping tiredly as he sucks on his pacifier. She bounces him a little and glances at Maxie. “I think the best advice someone ever gave me was to make as much noise as possible while they sleep, so they get used to it. He could sleep through a nuclear explosion, I think.”

“I’ve never thought of it that way,” Chase says thoughtfully, “but you know, that actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Clearly, I’ve been reading the wrong parenting magazines,” Maxie jokes, taking another swig from her glass. A large swig, actually, and Chase stifles a chuckle, his eyes wide as she all but slams her empty glass down on the coffee table. “If you’ll excuse me,” she giggles. “I think I need a glass of water if I’m going to make it to midnight.”

She stumbles toward the kitchen and almost runs right into Lulu, who scolds her friend teasingly and calls for the kids to gather around the dining room table for fondue. Chase feels Willow’s shoulders shake in laughter and turns to face her, his gaze fixated on the smile on her lips. His eyes drift down to Jaxon. “He’s out cold,” he comments, lifting his arm around her shoulders and turning his body toward her just a little bit. “Want to go put him down, maybe go get some fondue before the kids eat it all?”

She smiles up at him, shakes her head. “I just kind of want to hold him,” she admits. She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and he narrows his eyes at her playfully. “But I do want some fondue,” she says innocently.

Chase chuckles. “That’s not fair,” he murmurs. “You can’t look at me like that and expect me to say no.”

She grins widely. “That’s kind of what I was hoping for,” she teases.

Which is how he finds himself piling a plate high with chocolate-dipped pretzels, strawberries, marshmallows - but not pineapple, because she _hates_ it, he’s learned - and avoiding Lulu’s giddy stare.

“You’re smitten,” she says accusingly, grinning widely as she speaks lowly next to him. “I know you love kids, but spending your New Year’s Eve here with us instead of at the Metro Court… you are truly smitten, my friend.”

He shrugs sheepishly. He doesn’t really have an argument, and there’s no point in denying it when he’s sure it’s written all over his face. And Lulu’s always been able to read him annoyingly well, anyway. “She’s incredible,” he says simply.

“Yes, she is,” Lulu agrees excitedly. “And if I’m not mistaken, I think she’s smitten with you, too.”

He sighs, turns to smirk at her. “Lulu,” he warns playfully.

She waves him off, adjusts the alignment of a bowl on the table, and when she looks back up at him, her smile is sincere. “I’m just happy for you,” she says. “You’re such a great guy, Chase, and you’ve been so good to me and my kids. You deserve to have someone like Willow in your life.” She narrows her eyes teasingly at him. “So don’t screw it up, Detective.”

He chuckles. “I am actively trying not to screw it up,” he assures her. She pats him on the back as he turns to make his way back to the sofa, where Willow still sits with Jaxon in her arms.

As the clock approaches midnight, the kids gather around the television to watch the ball drop, eyes wide, high on apple cider and chocolate fondue. A decidedly less drunk Maxie rejoins them after checking on baby James in the guest room, and Lulu provides the four of them with glasses of champagne to ring in the New Year. Charlotte turns out the lights, and Chase chuckles as the kids all cheer, waving their glowsticks in the air wildly and nudging each other excitedly as the countdown ticks down.

“I say we should all go around and say what we wish for in 2019,” Lulu suggests, sitting between Maxie and Chase as she sips her champagne.

“Leave it to Lulu to try to make everything sentimental,” Maxie jokes, rolling her eyes playfully.

Lulu scowls at her friend. “Just for that, you get to be the one to start.”

Maxie rolls her eyes. “My wish for 2019 is that James will sleep through the night.”

Lulu’s clearly not satisfied with that answer, but she waves her off and instead turns to face Chase. “My wish for 2019 is that Dante will come home to us, safe, and Chase will get his partner back.” Her eyes cloud over wistfully, but before she lets the emotion take over, she fixes her eyes on Chase, smiling mischievously. “Your turn, Detective.”

His eyes immediately dart to Willow, before quickly moving back to Lulu. Obviously, she caught him, and her eyes widen ever so slightly, her grin threatening to split her face in half. He can’t help but smile back at her excitement. He clears his throat, hoping Willow didn’t witness the whole exchange, and sips his champagne, contemplating. “Happiness,” he decides. “In my work, in my relationships…” He meets Willow’s eyes this time, enjoying the way her cheeks flush ever so slightly. “In everything, I guess.”

Lulu nods, her eyes shining. “And you, Willow?” She sips her champagne, looking over the rim of her glass at her friend.

Willow meets Maxie’s eyes, then Lulu’s, then Chase’s, then looks down at Jaxon, snoozing sweetly in her arms. She looks up at them again, his favorite little smile on her lips. He runs his fingertips across her shoulder from where his arm rests across the back of the couch. “This,” she says quietly. “More of this. That’s what I want in 2019.”

She meets his eyes, then, and the kids are counting down from ten, and Jaxon’s making little noises in his sleep, and the ball is dropping on the TV in front of them. And yet, he couldn’t care less, because there’s something in her eyes in this moment; something that tells him that 2019 is going to be a special year for both of them, together. He’s so lost in her that he doesn’t even notice when Lulu recruits Maxie to help usher the kids off to bed, leaving the three of them alone in the living room. (Sometimes it’s okay when she meddles.)

He moves his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, rests his forehead against hers, then leans forward to close the gap between them. It’s just a slow, sweet kiss to ring in the New Year and all the promise it brings for them, and with Jaxon sleeping between them, it feels like the perfect symbolism for everything he wants 2019 to be.

… … …


	4. let's get to what we're doing here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "written in the sand" by old dominion.
> 
> { I own nothing }

… … …

It’s been so long since he was in a real relationship that he almost forgot about this part. The awkward dance of spending as much time together as possible without suffocating one another. As much as he likes her - ”smitten” is the word Lulu would use - Chase knows that he and Willow are still getting to know one another, still figuring out what this thing is between them. He’s not seeing anyone else (doesn’t want to) and he’s pretty sure she’s not, either. But he thinks it’s important for them to take things slow, keep everything in perspective. He has to remember that it’s not just the two of them in this relationship; she has Jaxon to consider, and she always will, and he comes first. Period. He wants to give her as much space as she needs to make sure this is what she wants, and to make sure it’s what’s best for Jaxon, too.

It’s not like he has much free time these days, anyway; there are multiple ongoing investigations, and he’s up to his eyeballs in paperwork and questionings and arrests and statements. With Willow having time off from work for the holidays, his temptation is to seek her out whenever he has a free moment. But they’ve spent every evening together since New Year’s Eve, and he thinks it’s about time to expand his social circle again.

He’s leaving work at the time his shift was actually scheduled to end for the first time in weeks. It’s almost eight o’clock, but after several nights in a row of working until ten or eleven, he feels like he has all the time in the world. Combined with the fact that he doesn’t have to be at work again until noon tomorrow, he figures he can go out for a or two beer, let off some steam. He briefly considers calling Finn before he remembers that it’s been weeks since he’s spoken to Michael at all.

Though it was brought about by mutual mistakes and a shared tragedy, he and Michael have developed a tentative friendship in recent months. He’s all but given up hope that he’ll make friends with any of the guys on the force, so honestly, it’s nice to have someone to watch a Sox game with every once in a while. However, he’ll admit that he’s let it fall by the wayside recently. Chase knows Michael’s still having a rough time coping with Jonah’s death, especially during the holidays, and he knows that the common experience that binds them together – Nelle - is the last person Michael wants to think about, pretty much ever. He doesn’t blame him at all for that; he’d like to forget Nelle ever existed, too. But he doesn’t want to give Nelle the power to take away the only friendship he’s really had in Port Charles, and honestly, he could use a sounding board to debrief the last few months of his life.

“How have you been, man?” He asks as he rests his elbows on the bar and takes a pull of his beer. He’s grateful that the Floating Rib is mostly empty tonight, with most people still recovering from the holidays.

Michael purses his lips, nods, cracks a smile. “It’s been better these days,” he says. “The holidays actually helped, I think. Reminded me that despite everything, I still have so much to be thankful for.”

Chase nods. “Exactly,” he comments, clapping Michael on the back good-naturedly. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m glad that you had plenty of family around to remind you of that.”

Michael nods, takes a pull of his beer. “What about you? You were noticeably absent at the New Year’s party, and I know you weren’t working, so…”

Called out. Chase tries to bite his lip to conceal his smile and fails. “Actually, I spent the evening at Lulu’s place with Maxie and all the kids. And Willow.”

Michael’s eyebrows shoot up. “Willow Tait?”

Chase nods, looking down into his beer to conceal the way his smile is taking over his face. God, it’s actually embarrassing how much he likes her. “The one and only.”

A slow grin spreads across Michael’s face. “Well, that explains a lot,” he chuckles.

Chase furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

Michael shrugs, seems to contemplate his words momentarily. “Just… I’ve hung out with her a few times, when I run into her at Wiley’s playgroup. She mentioned she was seeing someone.”

Chase hums, sipping his beer. “I didn’t know you two knew each other that well,” he muses.

Michael shakes his head. “Nah. We’ve just talked a bit. She’s pretty closed off when it comes to anything deeper than small talk, anyway.”

Chase can’t argue with that. “The more I get to know her, the more she intrigues me,” he comments. “I mean, she’s fucking incredible, obviously. But she’s got some skeletons, I think. Like you said, she’s hard to crack. She and Lulu are pretty close, and I’m not even sure Lulu knows what brought her to town.”

Michael considers. “You think she’s hiding something?”

Chase shrugs. “She shows up in town just in time to give birth to a baby, and settles here without knowing a single soul. She’s gotta be running from something, at the very least.” Chase shakes his head. “I’m trying not to pry, but…”

“But you’re a detective.” Michael smirks in understanding. He takes a pull of his beer. “You know, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I noticed some sparks between you two at Career Day.”

Chase grins. “I was trying to charm her a little bit, I think,” he admits. “I asked her out that day.”

“Of course you did,” Michael chuckles. “You hardly ever wear your uniform, so you gotta milk it while you can, I guess.”

Chase hums, picking at the label on his beer. He smirks. “So, you must be the only guy at the mommy-and-me class, huh?”

Michael rolls his eyes, chuckling. “Yeah, usually, but I don’t mind. It’s nice, spending time with Wiley, especially since he’s the same age as…”

Chase tilts his head as Michael trails off. “The same age as Jonah, you mean.”

“Yeah,” Michael sighs. “And as much as I miss him, it’s a nice reminder, you know, that life goes on. Jonah was meant for better than this world.”

He wonders, sometimes, how Michael doesn’t hold him responsible for his son’s death. After all, it was Chase’s brilliant plan to bring down Nelle that put Jonah in jeopardy in the first place, and ultimately, the idea to catch her in her lies was all his. If it weren’t for him, the car wreck that sent Nelle into labor in the middle of the woods would never have happened. But never once has Michael put the blame on him, something Chase will forever be thankful for. And it helps, too, that Michael seems to have such a good perspective about things now.

Chase nods. “That’s good, though, that you have people around you who can provide that for you. Perspective. I’m sure that helps a lot.”

Michael nods, sips his drink. He takes a deep breath. “So, do you have any theories about Willow?”

Chase purses his lips, considering. He sips his beer. “I have this feeling that it has to do with Jaxon’s father,” he reveals. “I don’t know why, it just… seems to make sense.”

Michael hums. “You think she’s trying to hide Jaxon from him? Like he’s dangerous, or something?”

“I don’t know.” Chase shakes his head. “Maybe I’m seeing things through rose-colored glasses, or maybe I’m blinded by how much I like her, but I can’t see any other reason why she would settle in a strange town without anyone around her to help her raise her son. And she made an offhand comment, once, that she doesn’t speak to her mother anymore, so that’s another thought.”

Michael narrows his eyes. “Do you think she could be in trouble?”

Chase shrugs. “She is pretty skeptical and a little bit jumpy, sometimes. It makes me wonder if there’s something out there she’s afraid of, someone she doesn’t want to find her. But I’m trying not to jump to conclusions, and I’m trying not to let my imagination run away with me. As far as I know, she’s safe here, for the time being, so there’s really no need to worry yet.”

Michael sips his beer, considering. “Well, you know if you need backup or anything, I’ve got your back. After what Nelle did, and what happened to Jonah… I’ll help you make sure no one gets anywhere near Jaxon.”

He hadn’t really thought about that, that at some point it might come down to needing to protect both Willow and Jaxon from someone. Without knowing details, it’s easy to picture them as a nameless, faceless, distant threat who may or may not ever materialize. It makes him uneasy to realize that this someone might turn up, eventually, and thinking of Willow or Jaxon being in any sort of danger makes his blood run cold.

He may not officially be her boyfriend yet, but he’s realizing he’s already willing to do pretty much anything for her. He’s just hoping it doesn’t come to that, at least not anytime soon.

… … …

With two official dates, a very sweet Christmas Eve kiss, and more and more time spent together in their rearview, she’s feeling more and more like this thing with Chase could really be something, and she’s absolutely terrified.

It’s not that she doesn’t trust him, because she absolutely does. And while that used to only apply to his professional life as a detective, she now trusts him in her personal life, too. He’s been so wonderful about allowing her to open up to him on her terms, in bits and pieces, however she’s comfortable. But there are things that happen between two people when a relationship gets more serious, as theirs is beginning to. Things that she has little experience with, and what experience she does have… well, let’s just say she’d like to pretend she has no experience at all. She’s never been in a real relationship before, and she doesn’t really know at what point sex is going to become an issue, and she wants to be prepared when the topic arises.

And anyway, aside from that, she knows that being in a relationship with her has certain nuances that other relationships don’t. The fact that she has a six-month-old son is certainly a wrinkle that complicates things. She can’t afford to be in a casual relationship, because Jaxon doesn’t deserve that. She knows that Chase likes her, enjoys spending time with her. But she also knows that those two things don’t imply any sort of commitment, and she’s not really sure she can move forward if this is just a casual dating relationship. Because, by necessity, any relationship she pursues has to be more than just casual dating.

She doesn’t want a marriage proposal. She just wants to know he’s serious about her, about them. But how soon is too soon to have those conversations?

As winter break winds down, Willow is trying to take advantage of every free moment she has to relax and spend time with Jaxon. But when Lulu drops by one afternoon while her little boy naps, she figures she can probe her friend for some advice on how to proceed.

“What are you so afraid of?” Lulu asks as they sip peppermint tea in Willow’s living room.

“My experience with relationships is severely lacking,” she sighs, pulling her legs up onto the sofa. She cradles her mug between her hands, soaking up the warmth. “I know Chase is a great guy, and I don’t doubt that he cares about me. But the more time we spend together, the more serious we get, the more I wonder how equipped I am to handle it.”

Lulu nods in understanding. “So we’re talking about sex.”

Willow takes a deep breath. “I’ve only ever been with one guy,” she admits, “and he was manipulative and I wasn’t quite… ready.”

“Oh, Willow.” Lulu reaches over, takes her hand, her eyes shining. “Did he…”

“No.” Willow looks down into her tea. “Not technically, I guess, but I didn’t really have any idea what I was getting myself into. It’s more of an emotional scar, I guess.”

Lulu tilts her head in concern. “And then you got pregnant.”

“And then I got pregnant,” Willow nods. “And since technically I wasn’t in a relationship with the guy, I guess Chase is my first real relationship, and it feels like a big deal.”

Lulu nods and squeezes her hand, her lips quirking up into a grin. “Of course it does, because it is a big deal.”

“I just don’t want to make it any bigger than it needs to be,” Willow stresses. “I don’t know at what point the topic should come up, or what he’s thinking or what he expects or how he’s feeling about… what we are, I guess. Is it too soon to be asking those questions?”

Lulu sips her tea, considering. “I don’t think it’s too soon if it’s something you’re worried about,” she reasons. “I think Chase is the kind of guy who would want to know that these are things you’re thinking about. One of the most important things in a relationship is communication, making sure that you’re honest with one another, that you’re on the same page about things. The only way to find out what he’s thinking or feeling is to talk to him about it, and to be honest about what you’re thinking and feeling in return.” Lulu tilts her head. “And I think you have a lot more to consider, with Jaxon, than most other women your age, and you’re smart to be taking this seriously.”

Willow sighs. “And that’s another thing. Jaxon’s getting older, and he’s starting to recognize people now.” She bites her lip, worrying. “What if he gets attached to Chase and things don’t work out? I just don’t want to create a pattern in his life where men are constantly in and out and no one sticks around to be there for him.”

Lulu hums, nods in understanding. “Well, I know I’m biased, but I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about with Chase,” she says. “If I know Chase like I think I do, I think he’s already thinking of a lot of those same questions. I think he’s probably trying to give you as much space as you need to figure out what this relationship means for Jaxon, too, and I think he’s already considered that he needs to be intentional about how he proceeds. I think he’s smart enough to understand what it means to be with you, with Jaxon, and he understands that this is not your typical dating situation.” Lulu reaches for her hand again, and Willow looks up from her tea to meet her eyes. “But if you’re really that concerned about it, Willow, you need to talk to him about it. Your feelings are clearly far enough developed that you’re concerned about the long-term, and something tells me his feelings are there, too.”

Willow sighs in relief, because honestly, everything Lulu said is everything she already thought, and it helps give her some clarity on how to move things forward. She feels like she knows Chase well enough at this point to know what kind of person he is, and she knows that he’s too thoughtful and intentional to take their relationship lightly. She was worried that she may have been giving him too much credit, seeing things with rose-colored glasses, but now that she knows Lulu agrees with her, it’s easier to trust her judgment when it comes to Chase.

“Thanks,” Willow exhales, smiling at her friend. “I needed someone to tell me that I’m not being crazy.”

“You’re not being crazy,” Lulu laughs. “You’re just… smitten. It’s cute.”

Willow rolls her eyes, but she can’t help but smile. “Yeah, thanks.”

Lulu sips her tea. “So, Michael says he’s enjoyed getting to know you at playgroup.”

And there it is; the other elephant in the room. Willow’s been hesitant to have this conversation with Lulu, knowing the familial connection between them, but she knows she needs to be honest with her friend.

“Yeah… about Michael.”

Lulu narrows her eyes. “What about Michael?”

“I think I may have accidentally given him the wrong idea,” Willow says sheepishly. “We’ve hung out a few times after playgroup, and last time we went out for lunch, and I think he thought we were on a date.”

“So you’re leading him on?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Willow winces. “And I told him I was seeing someone as soon as I suspected. I made sure he knows where I stand. But he seemed… hurt, and I guess I’m kind of worried that I let it go too far.”

Lulu sighs. “Look, I don’t know how much you know about what happened to Michael right around the time you came through town, but… he got his heart broken pretty bad. I know you know he lost Jonah, but Jonah’s mother really did a number on him, and he’s got a lot of hurt still hidden in his heart.” Lulu sips her tea. “It’s good that you were upfront with him. Michael will be okay. He’s probably not used to being turned down, honestly,” she jokes.

Willow nods, exhales. She’s grateful that Lulu isn’t upset, that she’s able to be objective. “I’m sorry if I’m putting you in the middle of everything.”

“Willow,” Lulu smiles warmly. “We’re friends. Sure, I care about Michael and Chase, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, too.”

Willow returns her smile. “What did I do to deserve a friend like you?”

“I don’t know,” Lulu hums. “But if you really want to thank me, you can pour me another peppermint tea.”

Willow laughs, stands to take her friend’s mug. “Coming right up.”

She’s never had someone she could go to for advice like this, never been able to confide in her mother, never had an older sister or even a best friend, really. So she’s beyond thankful that, in moving to Port Charles, she found a friend like Lulu, who combines the best parts of all three.

… … …

With all the turmoil and concern for public safety around Port Charles in recent months, he knows everyone - especially the women in their town - are looking for ways to prepare themselves, to be able to defend themselves if necessary. Commissioner Ashford suggested teaching a self-defense class at the first of the year, and he jumped at the chance to teach it. He wasn’t surprised that so many women signed up. He was surprised that one woman in particular was so enthusiastic about it.

He’ll admit that it raised some alarm bells in his head, the fact that Willow practically jumped at the chance to learn self-defense. In any other situation, he may not have been so skeptical, but knowing what he knows (and what he doesn’t know) about Willow’s past… well, he can’t help but add it to the list of evidence that she’s clearly running from someone, and that she feels that her safety may be threatened at some point. It only confirms what he’s thought ever since he found out she legally changed her name before she moved here, and he wonders at what point she’ll finally open up to him about the path that brought her to Port Charles.

But he’ll admit, it was ridiculously sexy, watching her eyes light up with a fire he’s never seen while he taught her some new moves. And he’s pretty impressed that she kept her cool throughout the whole ordeal, because Elizabeth and Nina couldn’t seem to keep their claws away from one another. Metaphorically, at least. He knows Willow has a backbone and can stand up for herself, but it was pretty satisfying to see it in person.

“You certainly know how to cause a ruckus,” he teases, smiling over the rim of his coffee. When she asked him out after class this morning, he wanted to take her somewhere, but she insisted that she needed to pick up Jaxon and put him down for a nap. Thankfully, she invited him to her place, instead.

Willow rolls her eyes, tucks her legs up beneath her on the sofa. “Shut up,” she laughs. “I’m just glad it didn’t actually come to blows.”

Chase hums, his eyes sparkling in amusement. “Could have been productive, though, for the sake of the class.”

She reaches out to shove at his knee as he laughs. “Careful,” she warns.

“Or what?” he challenges playfully.

“Or I’ll use those new moves you taught me to make a point.” She quirks her brow, smirking, and he chuckles.

“Touché.” He smirks back at her, subtly moves just a little bit closer, turns his body toward her. “I am curious, actually, if there’s a reason why you were so enthusiastic about taking the class.”

He doesn’t miss the way her smile slips and her shoulders tense, ever so slightly. “Digging for information, are we, Detective?” Her voice sounds pleasant, nonchalant, but the way her eyes are narrowed says she’s feeling cornered.

“I’m not trying to pry,” he assures her sincerely. His hand falls to rest on her knee reassuringly. “I’m just curious, like I said. I just want to make sure you feel safe here.” He ducks his head down to catch her gaze, and she finally meets his eyes. “I care about you a lot. You know that, right?” Willow sighs, nods. He squeezes her knee, and she smiles hesitantly up at him. “Just tell me if there’s something or someone I need to be on the lookout for. I know you don’t need protecting, Willow, but I still want to support you however I can.”

She meets his eyes again, finally, and he’s not sure what she’s searching for, but he watches as her eyes soften, and it’s like all the fight drains out of her. He can only imagine how exhausting it must be to have your guard up ninety-nine percent of the time, and even if she only gives him a little glimpse past it today, he’s more than happy to shoulder at least a little piece of the burden she’s carrying.

Finally, she takes his hand that’s resting on her knee, laces their fingers together as if to reassure herself, takes a deep breath. “I left home as soon as I found out I was pregnant,” she begins. She swallows uneasily. “There are a lot of reasons why, but one of them is that Jaxon’s father is very influential in the community. He doesn’t necessarily have money, but he has power, and he has a way of manipulating people into doing what he wants them to do.” She exhales shakily, and he squeezes her hand, encouraging her to continue. “He’s not necessarily a dangerous person, as in, I’m not scared that he might hurt me. If he ever found out about Jaxon, I know he would do everything in his _legal_ power to come after us. But if he needed to go underground…”

“You’re afraid he would send someone else to do his dirty work,” he finishes.

“I just want to be prepared,” she says quietly. “I can’t let him get anywhere near my son. I won’t let him use my child to gain favor with people, or to further his own sick, twisted agenda.”

It’s not much, in the grand scheme of things. Just a few sentences about the life she left behind, and why she did it. But to him, it’s _everything_. It’s Willow, finally opening up to him about her past, finally trusting him enough to let him in. Her eyes are a little shiny, and he realizes that maybe this anxiety has been weighing on her more than she’s let on. And though it frustrates him, because he wants to help, he knows how hard it can be to open up when you’ve been betrayed before.

“I’m… I’m in awe of you,” he finally responds, taking her coffee from her and setting both their mugs on her coffee table. He turns to face her completely, takes both her hands in his. “You’ve clearly given up a lot to protect your son, and it’s so admirable the way you take everything in stride. You don’t hide from what scares you; you find ways to fight back, take any step necessary to protect yourself and him.” He squeezes her hands, and she finally looks up to meet his eyes again. “But listen to me. I want you to understand that if something happens, you won’t be in it alone. I have the advantage of actually working _for_ the law, and I will do everything in my power to keep both of you safe. Okay?”

Willow shakes her head. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to watch over me, or something,” she argues. “Jaxon and I are perfectly okay to take care of ourselves.”

“I know that,” Chase agrees. “Believe me, I know. But it never hurts to have a little backup, right?” The corner of his lips quirks up in a grin. “Just think of it as backup.”

She nods, finally, gives him a grateful smile, and he takes the opportunity to pull her in for a kiss. Short and sweet, just to punctuate his point, and she drapes her arms around his shoulders to keep him close.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “Thank you for being so patient and letting me tell you things like this on my own terms. I know it’s hard for you, being a detective and all.”

He chuckles, lifts his hand from her hip to brush a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I want you to know that you can trust me.”

“I do know that,” she assures him. She smiles sweetly. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” She swallows, her smile slipping just a little bit. She links her fingers behind his head. “Are you sure you really want to be mixed up in all this?” she jokes weakly.

He furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I just…” she sighs, shifting her body to pull her legs up onto the sofa. She keeps one hand on his shoulder, uses the other to pull at her lip nervously. “I guess that’s my twisted way of asking what’s really going on here. I don’t want to be that girl, but… I know all of this is probably more than you signed up for. A baby and a psycho ex.”

And okay, sure, in theory, the idea of dating someone who already has a child was daunting to him, he’ll admit. But since he first laid eyes on her, since their first interaction, he’s never thought twice about it. He cares about her, more than he maybe wants to admit, and he cares about Jaxon, too. It’s not a question in his mind of whether he can handle it, because to him, when you care about someone, when you want to be with someone, you take whatever they have to give.

“Willow,” he starts, shaking his head. “It’s not like I was blindsided by any of this. I knew you had a son before I ever asked you out, and trust me, I’ve had my suspicions about your ex since the beginning. I like you.” He smiles, and she smiles back at him. “I care about you a lot. And as for what this is…” He shrugs. “I dunno, I kind of thought we were a couple.”

She tilts her head, her smile widening. “I guess I did, too. I just wasn’t sure you felt the same way. I don’t…” she exhales, shaking her head at herself. “I don’t know how to do any of this.”

“Any of what?” he asks, sweeping her hair off her shoulder absently.

“Dating,” she says in exasperation. Or maybe embarrassment? She runs her hand through her hair. “I’ve never been in a real relationship before, and honestly, I’ve never really gone past just a couple of dates with someone. So I don’t know how any of this works, and I’m just nervous that I’ll say the wrong thing or push things too quickly or do something to push you away, and I…”

He kisses her to cut her off, smiling as he does because she’s just so damn cute. She’s usually so sure of herself, so confident and solid, that he kind of loves seeing a more vulnerable side of her, a side that doesn’t know what the hell she’s doing. Because honestly, he doesn’t really know what the hell _he’s_ doing, either.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, either,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve never really… I’ve never cared about someone like I care about you. And I don’t know where we’re headed, or what’s going to happen down the road, but I do know that I want to figure it out. And as long as that’s what you want, too, then I’d say we’re on the same page.”  
  
She’s smiling when he meets her eyes again, and she leans forward to kiss him again. “I do want that,” she says quietly, sincerely. Her lips are just brushing his when Jaxon’s cries sound through the monitor, and he chuckles when she exhales in frustration. She kisses him quickly as she stands from the couch. “Duty calls,” she sighs.

He supposes that to most guys his age, spending an entire afternoon and evening making silly noises and funny faces at a six-month-old probably isn’t really their idea of a good time. But he can safely say that there’s no place else he’d rather be.

… … …

She’s been dreading Saturday all week long, partially because she knows school starts back on Monday. Her three weeks off have been such a wonderful way to recharge, to spend as much time as possible with Jaxon, to really allow things to progress with Chase without work getting in the way. After their conversation the other day, she feels so much better about their relationship, about where they’re headed, and she’s more excited than she’s ever been for the year ahead. But with the beginning of a new semester comes the return of stressful hours in the classroom, long days without her son, and more than likely, less time to spend with Chase. As much as she loves her students, she’s going to miss her relaxing break away from work.

If she’s honest with herself, though, the main reason she’s dreading this particular Saturday is because she’s taking Jaxon to playgroup, and she’s almost certain she’s going to run into Michael again.

After her conversation with Lulu, she feels a little bit better about the way things went down between them. She doesn’t feel like she owes him anything. But she doesn’t like the fact that she hurt him, and she feels like she should at least explain to him that things with Chase are getting more serious. She knows now, too, that Chase and Michael are friends, and she just wants to clear the air and make sure they’ll be able to be around one another without any awkwardness. Considering the abundance of other things she has to worry about, the last thing she needs is petty drama taking up space in her life.

“Willow,” Michael greets, giving her a grin as she stands up from the floor with Jaxon in her arms. “Looks like your boy has a set of lungs on him.”

Willow rolls her eyes, but she can’t help but smile. At six months, Jaxon’s personality is beginning to shine through, and he was so vocal and loud today throughout the class that the instructor had to pause multiple times for the laughter to subside. “He’s not shy, that’s for sure,” she says laughingly.

Michael adjusts Wiley in his arms. “I guess Wiley’s gonna be more of a strong and silent type,” he observes.

“Maybe they’ll be best friends,” Willow says thoughtfully. “You know, balance each other out.”

Michael hums. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” He tilts his head with a grin. “How were your holidays?”

“So nice,” she says honestly, smiling. “It was fun to go all out for Jaxon’s first Christmas.”

“I heard Chase imparted his Christmas wisdom on you,” Michael jokes.

And there it is. The elephant in the room. Willow smiles hesitantly. “Yeah,” she laughs nervously. “He certainly knows how to pick a Christmas tree. Jaxon was enthralled by the lights and he definitely enjoyed the wrapping paper.”

Michael grins, and while she thinks he must know about her and Chase, he doesn’t seem the least bit bitter or upset. “I’m glad you had a great holiday,” he says sincerely.

She smiles, more relaxed this time. “I know you and Chase went out the other night,” she begins cautiously.

“Yeah,” Michael says, smiling as he furrows his brow. “I knew you were seeing someone, but I didn’t know it was Chase. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Willow shrugs. “I honestly didn’t know where things were going to go, at first,” she admits. “But now…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Willow,” Michael chuckles. “You don’t owe me anything. Chase is a great guy, and a great friend, and he’s obviously crazy about you. You’re obviously pretty incredible yourself. I’m happy for you guys.”

Willow smiles sheepishly. “I just don’t want you to feel awkward around me, or Chase. I don’t want there to be any weirdness around any of this. I know Chase considers you a close friend, and I hope that means we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

Michael nods. “Look,” he says seriously, meeting her eyes. “I like you a lot, Willow, I’m not gonna lie. But Chase is my friend, and the more I get to know you, the more I know you two are pretty perfect for one another. So you don’t have to worry about me, okay? I’m a big boy,” he chuckles. “I’ve been turned down before. I can handle it, and I’ll get over it.”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Okay, okay.” She adjusts Jaxon on her hip where he’s beginning to fuss. “Point taken. I’ll let go of my ego trip now.”

“Seriously.” Michael smiles and meets her eyes again. “I’m a big believer in destiny, and there’s a reason you ended up here in Port Charles.” He reaches for Jaxon’s little hand, chuckles when Jaxon pulls on his finger. “You never know. Maybe you and Chase were meant to find each other.”

Willow bites her lip to conceal her smile. “Yeah. Maybe.”

She doesn’t want to let her mind go there just yet, not really, because they’ve got a long way to go before there are any real commitments made. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like the sound of that. She knows there’s a reason why she’s here, why she’s set down more firm roots in Port Charles than she has anywhere else she’s ever lived. And while she doesn’t really think that finding a man to love her is her one true calling in life, she thinks that she wouldn’t mind if Chase ended up being a part of it.

… … …


	5. all I ever wanted was the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "infinity" by one direction.
> 
> TW for mentions of sexual assault.
> 
> { I own nothing }  
> & any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show and is credited to the writers. :-)

… … …

“I can’t believe you won’t tell me where we’re going,” she grumbles.

She’s muttered some variation of the same phrase at least a thousand times since they left Port Charles just over an hour ago. It’s cute, really, how annoyed she is by the fact that he knows how to keep a secret.

Over the past few weeks, he’s noticed her stress levels rising steadily, especially after school started back again. He misses how relaxed she was during her three-week holiday break, and now that she’s off for the weekend, he decided to get her away from Port Charles for the day. He counts his blessings that Lulu absolutely adores Jaxon and didn’t mind watching him while Chase whisks Willow away for the day.

All he told her is that they’re taking a day trip a few towns over and they’ll figure out what to do when they get there. It’s not like Beecher’s Corners is any sort of vacation destination, but it’s not Port Charles, and he thinks a change of scenery will do her good.

“Just relax,” he repeats, again, chuckling. “You trust me, don’t you?”

She quirks her brow at him. “I _did_ trust you. I’m not so sure about that anymore.”

He rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Can’t you just let me do something nice for you? For once?”

She mutters something about keeping secrets and not being nice and he stifles a laugh. He reaches over to squeeze her knee, and she jumps, laughing freely as he tickles her. And that smile, that laugh - that’s why he’s doing this. It’s too easy for her to be dragged down by the everyday grind of going to work, taking care of Jaxon, and fitting their time together into her busy schedule. He knows she’s not used to being taken care of, to having someone looking out for her, but she’s going to have to get used to it. Because he’s determined to make her smile and laugh as much as he can, as often as he can, for as long as she’ll let him.

It’s another hour or so before they finally cross into town, and he smiles when they pass the sign for the town limits. “Surprise!” he chuckles. “I know Beecher’s Corners isn’t anywhere special, but at least it’s a change of scenery.”

When she doesn’t say anything, he finally looks over toward the passenger seat and notices that her eyes are wide as saucers, her face white as a sheet. She’s so still that he wonders if she’s breathing for a moment, and he furrows his brow in confusion, shifting his eyes cautiously between the road in front of him and the girl beside him.

“Willow?” he says finally, reaching across the console to touch her hand.

She takes a deep breath, her voice shaky when she finally speaks. “Can we, uh… can we go somewhere else? Please? Anywhere else?”

He frowns. “What? What do you mean?”

“Chase,” she says desperately, closing her eyes. “I can’t… I can’t be here.”

He’s puzzled by her reaction until his detective’s mind begins to work, and the pieces all fit together. She’s never talked about where she came from, never mentioned the name of the place she used to call home. But he has a sneaking suspicion he just figured it out, anyway.

“This is where you’re from,” he says in realization.

She exhales slowly, turns her head to meet his eyes. She clutches his wrist between both of her hands. “I know you didn’t know. I know that’s my fault, because I never told you, but please… We need to leave. We can’t be here. _I_ can’t be here.”

His first instinct, honestly, is to be pissed off, because yeah, she’s right - there’s no way he could have known, because she never told him. But he quickly dials it back, because she’s clearly upset, and the whole point of this day was to help her relax. “Okay,” he says finally. “Okay. We’ll go somewhere else. I just need to stop for gas, and then we’ll get out of here.”

“Please, Chase,” she pleads. “I can’t…”

It’s the tone of her voice that catches his attention, the way the panic is beginning to seep into her lungs, the way her breathing is almost out of control. She’s spiraling. And he begins to wonder if what happened to her here is more distressing, more traumatic, more dangerous than just an overzealous ex.

“Hey. Look at me,” he says sternly, and she looks over at him, wide-eyed. It may have been harsh, but it worked; her eyes are marginally less frantic, her breathing slowing down. His hand finds hers, and he threads their fingers together, squeezing to reassure her. He wishes he weren’t driving, so he could hold her gaze, but he needs to focus on the road. “It’s going to be fine. We’ll stop for gas, as quickly as possible, and you don’t even need to get out of the car. And then we’ll get the hell out of here and we’ll go somewhere else and relax. Nothing is going to happen.”

She takes a deep breath, lets out a shaky exhale. “I wish I shared your confidence.”

“I’m right here,” he reminds her, squeezing her hand again. “You’re safe.”

She nods, but her breathing is shallow and unsteady as he pulls into the first gas station he can find. As far as he can tell, it’s deserted, save for the attendant inside the convenience store. He decides that whatever she’s told him about her ex, or her past in general, it’s not enough, because she clearly has some deep-seeded trauma associated with this place. It would’ve been helpful to know that before he made an ass of himself, causing her all this emotional turmoil.

He makes a lap around the car, his instincts sharpened by Willow’s heightened anxiety, but he doesn’t notice anything suspicious or anyone lurking around. He opens the door to the passenger side, and he doesn’t miss the way Willow goes very still. “There’s no one here,” he reassures her. “Why don’t you step outside and get some fresh air. I’m going to start the pump, and then I’m going to run inside to the bathroom, okay?”

She closes her eyes, seems to steel herself, then nods. He takes her hand to pull her out of the vehicle, and he runs his hand over the back of her neck, pulling her toward him, pressing his forehead against hers. “Relax,” he murmurs.

“I’ll try.”

He kisses her quickly, just for good measure. Then he heads inside the gas station, determined to get her out of here as quickly as he can.

… … …

She knows Chase is right, that she needs to get some fresh air, if anything just to help her breathe better so she doesn’t have a panic attack. But she wishes he hadn’t left her out here, even for a minute, because she feels completely exposed. Anyone - and she does mean _anyone_ \- could recognize her here, and report back to him that she’s back. Not to mention that she knows Chase is a recognizable face in the area, because of his position with the PCPD, so they would be able to track her back to Port Charles if they wanted to.

She looks around her, does some quick calculations in her head. She doesn’t ever remember spending time on this side of town, and it’s likely that no one she knew does, either. They’re a pretty safe distance away from where she used to live and the places she used to go. And honestly, she’s been gone over a year, she reasons. The odds that anyone she was close to would spontaneously come out this way and happen to be here at the exact moment she is… they’ve gotta be slim, right? She can’t be _that_ unlucky.

Any minute now, she thinks, tapping her fingers against the roof of his car. Any minute now, he’ll come out of the convenience store, and they’ll speed down the road back to Port Charles and pretend like none of this ever happened.

Okay, she’s not that naïve. He’s going to have questions, and at this point, she knows she needs to answer them. It won’t make it any easier to discuss, but she’s hid her past from him long enough. It’s time for her to be honest, so there won’t be any more misunderstandings like this again.

“Kali?”

Her blood runs ice cold in her veins. No. There’s no way. No chance…

“Kali. I thought that was you.”

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t even notice another car pull into the station. She closes her eyes, squeezes them tight, curses herself for not trusting her instincts and staying in the car like she wanted to.

She steels herself, turning around to face the voice. “Harmony.”

“It’s been so long,” Harmony says, her tone cool and detached. “I wasn’t sure if you were ever coming back.”

“I’m not,” Willow assures her, attempting to project a sense of calm and confidence that does not match the way her hands are shaking and her mind is racing. She clenches her fists to hide her nerves. “I will _never_ be back. I’m just passing through town. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

“You’ll always have a home here, you know,” Harmony reminds her. She assumes the sentiment is meant to be comforting, but instead, another wave of panic rises in her throat. “I know you’ve strayed from us, but you know that Dawn of Day will always take you back.”

“No,” she says forcefully, trying to control her temper, to control the volume of her voice. She doesn’t need to attract any more attention to herself. “I will never come back to Dawn of Day. And you can tell Shiloh I said so. You are still his lap dog, aren’t you, Harmony?”

“Oh, Kali,” Harmony sighs patronizingly, the way Shiloh used to, the way that still makes her skin crawl with absolute dread. “I was afraid of this. It’s been so long since you left us. Clearly, you’ve lost your way.”

“Actually,” she counters, straightening her back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I think I’ve finally _found_ my way.” She’s not sure she realized how true that statement is until just now, when she said it out loud. “There’s nothing left for me here, Harmony. And I can promise you that I will not be back here. Not now, not ever.”

“I sense some angst in you, sweetheart,” Harmony says calmly, and Willow has a strange and sudden urge to scream in exasperation. “Let’s go somewhere. Sit down and talk this out.”

“I don’t think so.”

Judging by the look on Harmony’s face, Chase snuck up on her, too. He’s using the tone she knows he saves for the criminals he faces on the job. She’s not sure when he approached, or how much he heard, but as thankful as she is that he’s here, she feels a wave of dread settle in the pit of her stomach. As if she didn’t have enough questions to answer already.

“Don’t worry.” She looks at Chase, steeling herself again as she turns toward the car. “Harmony was just leaving.”

“Kali -”

“Take a step back, ma’am,” Chase warns. “She asked you to leave.”

At the very least, Harmony knows how to take a thinly-veiled threat when she hears one. “It was nice to see you again, Kali,” she says, and Willow winces at the use of her given name in front of Chase. More questions. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

As soon as Harmony turns away, Willow quickly climbs into the car and fastens her seatbelt, eager to get out of this place as quickly as possible. And then Chase climbs in, levels his gaze at her, and she sinks down in her seat a little bit. He starts the car, barrels out onto the main road, and heads back toward Port Charles.

He drives in stoic silence, his jaw set angrily, his hands white-knuckled around the steering wheel. He’s not happy with her, that much is obvious, and she doesn’t blame him one bit. He’s been so patient with her, so willing to let her reveal things to him at her own pace, but it’s clear that his patience has run out. She wishes he would say something. Anything to break the silence between them, because she currently feels about two inches tall.

“Are you okay?” he finally asks tersely. If she wasn’t so anxious, she’d smile - always looking out for her, even when he’s angry.

“Yes,” she murmurs.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine, Chase,” she sighs. “I just want to go home.”

She watches as his fingers tighten even further around the steering wheel, the muscles in his jaw twitching in annoyance. “We can go back to Port Charles,” he concedes, his eyes fixed on the road. “But we have to talk about this, Willow.”

“I know,” she agrees. “Can I just… just give me some time to think while we drive, okay? I promise, I’ll tell you everything when we get home.” She reaches over, pulls his hand from the steering wheel, and she’s grateful that he doesn’t resist. “I promise.”

He takes a deep breath, and she can tell he’s less than thrilled, but he nods anyway. ‘Okay.”

He doesn’t pull his hand away for the whole drive, and she’s thankful. Even in his anger, he can tell she needs something to hold onto, and he wants her to be okay.

She wants to be okay again. More than anything.

… … …

He lets her have two hours of silence while he drives them back to Port Charles, no matter how many times he wants to yell and punch the steering wheel and shake the answers out of her.

He’s so damn angry. He’s angry with himself for leaving her alone, even for a few minutes, when he’d told her he wouldn’t. He’s angry with whoever Harmony is, and whoever Shiloh is, and whatever Dawn of Day is, and whatever they did to terrorize her to the point of a near panic attack. And he’s a little bit angry with her, too. He knows it’s not fair. She had no obligation to tell him anything, and he’s always wanted her to feel comfortable confiding in him on her own time. He wants her to trust him, and she says she does, but how much can she possibly trust him if there’s so much of the story she left out?

He has so many questions. So many answers that he needs, and he hopes she’s ready to give them, because he doesn’t know how much longer he can go on without them.

They’re safely inside his apartment, and he watches carefully as she deadbolts his door behind them, leaning her back against the door and taking a deep breath. Her entire body relaxes instantly, and he can tell that this is the safest she’s felt in the last hour and a half.

He feels all the anger drain out of him, replaced almost simultaneously with relief, because she’s here and she’s safe. He crosses the room in two strides, pulling her into his arms. She clings to him, her fingers digging into his shirt at the base of his spine, and he feels like an ass for the way he treated her the car. She didn’t need that from him, not when she was clearly scared out of her mind.

“I’m sorry I was angry,” he murmurs, running his hand down the back of her head.

She shakes her head against his chest. “You were right,” she counters. “It’s time for me to be completely honest.” She pulls back, keeping her arms locked around his waist. He looks down at her, sweeping the hair off her shoulders and cupping her cheeks in his hands. “I’m so tired of keeping secrets.”

He leans down to kiss her, slowly, reassuringly. He rests his forehead against hers. “I know you promised me,” he says. “But remember that you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” she says confidently, a determined gleam in her eye that he loves. “I _need_ to.”

He nods, grateful, and kisses her one more time. “Is this a hot tea conversation, or a wine conversation?”

“Wine,” she nods decisively. “Lots of it.”

He chuckles. “Coming right up.” He gestures to the sofa. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He pours her a generous glass of what he’s learned is her favorite red, pours himself a glass of water instead. He wants to be completely clear-headed for this conversation, no matter how painful it is.

“You’re going to make me drink alone?” she jokes as he takes a seat next to her, holding out her glass.

He shakes his head, sips his water, meets her eyes seriously. “I need to hear every word of this.”

Her face falls, and she takes a deep breath. Up until this point, he’s been afraid to make her uncomfortable, afraid to push her too far. But he feels like they’re at a point now where there can’t be secrets between them anymore, especially when this particular secret lends a lot of insight into her current situation. As much as he hates seeing her upset, there are things he needs to know.

“I don’t…” she exhales shakily. “I don’t even know where to start.”

He takes her hand in his, running his thumb across her knuckles. “The beginning would be good.”

She takes a big gulp of wine, then places the glass on the coffee table, turning her body to face him completely.

“The woman I was talking to at the gas station was my mother,” she begins. “Kali is my given name. I legally changed it when I left.”

He immediately recalls the redacted legal records he found months ago, and another piece of the puzzle clicks into place. He keeps his expression neutral and waits patiently for her to continue.

“She’s always been a seeker,” Willow begins. “One of those people who’s always looking for a cause to support or a philosophy to believe in. She was constantly looking for someone to follow. We moved countless times growing up, because she was never truly satisfied with where we were. Always looking for… _enlightenment_.”

She spits the word out like acid, and he’s grateful for a glimpse of the strong woman he knows. As she continues to speak, her voice becomes stronger, more sure, and as painful as it must be, he can almost see the relief in her eyes, the burden already lifted by beginning to tell her story.

“When I was nineteen, my mom met a man named Shiloh, who was the head of an organization called Dawn of Day,” she continues. “She was instantly captivated by his teachings, and before I knew it, we weren’t just members; my mother was Shiloh’s right hand.”

She swallows, runs her hand through her hair, refocuses. It’s clear that whoever this Shiloh guy is, he did a number on her; even saying his name out loud seems difficult for her. Her hand trembles in his, and he squeezes, trying to provide whatever comfort he can.

“My dad never liked Shiloh. He left my mom not long after we joined DOD, and he tried to convince me to come with him.” The pain in her eyes tells him she wishes she’d done just that. “But I was young and naïve, and I was manipulated into believing that being favored by Shiloh was an honor. My mom joined the Trust only six months after we joined, and being her daughter, he invested a lot in me. He used DOD funds to pay for me to get my teaching degree, so that I could teach all the DOD children his messages. And then, last year, Shiloh decided that I was ready to join the Trust.”

Everything about this story makes his skin crawl. He’s seen some ridiculously elaborate coercion and manipulation in his line of work, but this… if this is going where he thinks it is, this is quite possibly the worst case he’s ever heard.

“The night of my initiation,” she begins, inhaling shakily, and he squeezes her hand again to reassure her that he’s here, that he’s listening. “My mother and the rest of the women in the Trust - and make no mistake, they were all women - gave me some tea to help me relax.” Her eyes shine with unshed tears, and he presses his lips together in apprehension. “It felt like an out-of-body experience. Like I was there, but it wasn’t happening to me. They read my duties and responsibilities from Shiloh’s manifesto, and then…”

She stops, exhales, and stands up. He’s about to ask what she’s doing when she turns around and slowly lifts her shirt at her right hip.

A tattoo.

No. It’s more than that. He moves closer, tentatively, and gently runs his finger across the mark on her hip. Goosebumps immediately pebble her skin, and she takes a deep breath. “They branded you,” he realizes, desperately trying to keep his voice steady, to keep his anger in check.

“Like I said,” she sighs, lowering her shirt and reclaiming her seat next to him. “It was supposed to be an honor, to have that symbol of belonging.” He can’t help the scoff that escapes him, and she turns to face him again, bringing her knees protectively up to her chest. “But that’s not the part that stays with me the most.”

He’s not sure if it’s the tone of her voice or the way she won’t meet his eyes that makes his blood run cold. He has a very strong feeling that whatever he’s about to hear is going to make him want to punch something, and he has the urge to stand, to move away from her just in case. But he won’t, not when she very clearly needs his support to get through this.

He takes a deep breath, steels himself. “What did he do to you, Willow?”

“My mother and the other members of the Trust left me alone with Shiloh, when he returned.” She loses her composure, then, and a tear slips down her cheek. His heart constricts painfully in his chest, even as his fists clench in anger at the implication of her words. “He, um… he gave me some more tea, to help me stay relaxed, and then… and then he had sex with me.”

Chase has never really understood the expression ‘seeing red’ until this moment. He’s heard a lot of stories that have made his blood boil before, but not like this one.

“I didn’t realize that what he’d done was wrong. At least, not at the time,” she babbles. “Technically, I consented to what he did. I believed it was an honor. I didn’t try to stop him.”

“You were coerced,” Chase interrupts, his teeth clenched. “He _drugged_ you, Willow.”

“I know that now,” she insists. “It didn’t take long before the veil came down and I realized exactly what he’d done to me. That he’d taken advantage of the situation, and that he’d likely done it many times before.”

Chase stands up, scrubs his hands over his face, narrowly resists the urge to punch a hole in his wall. There’s something in the tone of her voice… something about her lack of anger toward the situation that in turn makes him angry on her behalf. Like she’s been so beaten down, so defeated by what that bastard did to her that she’s just accepted it. Maybe it’s just a defense mechanism, a way that she’s learned to cope with it, but the fact that he so easily got away with it…

“Why didn’t you press charges?” he asks, turning around to face her again. “When you realized what he did?”

She shrugs, and her entire body sags in defeat. “There wasn’t any evidence,” she reasoned. “Not at that point. And even if I did press charges, other members would have him exonerated. His reach is too extensive. It would be my word against his, and Shiloh always wins.”

He sits down again, turns his body to face hers. “I don’t believe that,” he argues. He takes her hand in his. “I _can’t_ believe that, or I wouldn’t be able to do what I do.”

“You’re one of the good ones,” she says, smiling sadly. “Shiloh has the cops in Beecher’s Corners wrapped around his finger.”

“Willow -”

“Chase.” She cups his cheek with her free hand, forces him to focus his gaze on her. Suddenly, her eyes are clear, determined, and he’s kind of in awe of her. “I appreciate your outrage on my behalf, but it happened. It’s done, and as traumatic as it was, I have a beautiful son because of it.”

“Wait a minute.” He was so blinded by his rage that he hadn’t put it together until this moment, but it makes sense now. All of it. “Shiloh is Jaxon’s father.”

Willow nods. “And now you know why I can never, ever let him find out.”

He exhales deeply, forces himself to calm the rush of disgust that comes over him. He pulls her into his arms, not sure if it’s more to comfort her or himself at this point. All that she’s been through… God. She’s a warrior. “I’m so sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

She inhales shakily, presses her face into his chest. “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

He shakes his head, lifting her head from his chest to hold it in his hands. He pushes her hair away from her face, runs his thumbs over her cheeks. Her pretty eyes shine with emotion. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

He pulls her against him and holds her there, rests against the back of the sofa. He’s not sure how long they sit there together, but it’s long enough that her breathing slows down, her heart rate slowing to normal. He holds one of her hands in his against his chest, the other running his fingers through the ends of her hair. It’s hard to formulate his thoughts, after everything she told him, but he does know that he’s misjudged her a little bit. He’s been so in awe of her strength, her resilience, that he almost ignored the fact that she’s got soft spots, too. She has places she’s been hurt, scars no one can see, little pieces of her heart that have been chipped away by people who didn’t care for it. He needs to be more mindful, he thinks, to take care of those soft places.

Just when he’s sure she’s fallen asleep, she takes a deep breath, sits up straight. “Thank you,” she says, her eyes searching his. “I know that was a lot for you to hear, and I know you feel like you had to drag it out of me, but it’s such a relief to have no more secrets hanging over me.”

He shakes his head, cups his hand around the back of her neck, presses his forehead to hers. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” he murmurs.

When he kisses her now, it feels different; more open, more honest. No more secrets between them.

(Well, almost. She’s done her part. He knows his turn is coming.)

… … …


	6. never simple, never easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "breathe" by taylor swift.
> 
> { I own nothing }  
> & any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show and is credited to the writers. :-)

… … …

Add Valentine’s Day to the list of holidays Willow never celebrated before she met Chase.

She knows what the day typically consists of - flowers, chocolates, lots of hearts, and a fancy nine-course meal at a restaurant where she can’t pronounce ninety-nine percent of the menu. She might be in the minority as a woman who is not at all enticed by any of that. Flowers are pretty, but she can’t keep them alive; chocolates are yummy, but truthfully, the fancy ones are never as good as an old-fashioned Hershey’s bar. She doesn’t mind the hearts and the silly little valentines, but a fancy dinner has zero appeal for a woman whose diet generally consists of protein bars and the occasional frozen dinner, when her seven-month-old son allows for it.

So when he asks her out for a simple drink at the Floating Rib, she knows he’s a keeper.

“You look handsome,” she says with a smile, greeting him with a kiss where he sits at the bar. She raises a brow teasingly. “Hot date?”

He smirks, his hand falling to her hip to pull her close. It’s not fair, she thinks, how beautiful he is. He looks nice most days - detective dress code dictates that he wear nice jeans and a blazer - but he looks even more amazing tonight. She’s thankful that she dressed a little nicer than usual, too, especially when he looks at her the way he does. “I would definitely say that.” He kisses her again. “You look amazing. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

She bites her lip, resigned to the fact that her cheeks are probably the same bright red as her new dress. Even the simplest compliment from him never fails to make her blush furiously. “Thank you. Back atcha, Detective.” She hoists herself (gracefully, of course) onto the stool beside him. She grins when she notices the glass of red wine waiting patiently for her. “For your date, I assume?” she jokes.

Chase rolls his eyes with a chuckle, takes a pull of his beer. “Just for you, sweetheart,” he says lowly. He takes her hand, kisses her knuckles. “I figured you could probably use it, after wrangling a bunch of third-graders on a sugar high all day.”

“It actually wasn’t that bad,” she says laughingly, lacing her fingers with his.

“Did they exchange valentines?”

“They did,” she smiles. “That’s my favorite part about Valentine’s Day, I think. I love how all the kids include one another and enjoy opening each other’s cards. That’s really what it’s all about, isn’t it?”

He smiles sweetly, brings her hand to his lips again. “I love how much you love teaching.”

She sips her wine, considering. “I think what I love most is not teaching them academic skills, but life skills,” she explains. “I love teaching them how to be inclusive, and tolerant, and kind, and considerate. How to form an educated opinion about something and stand up for what they believe in. Those are the things that are truly important.”

He leans over and kisses her, catching her off guard, and she laughs into his mouth. “You’re amazing,” he tells her.

She rolls her eyes, biting her lip to fight off a grin. “ _You’re_ amazing,” she retorts. “Thank you for taking me somewhere low-key instead of out for a fancy dinner or something crazy.”

He hums. “I thought about the Metro Court, maybe, but I figured this was more our style anyway. I know most people go fancy for Valentine’s, but it’s more about spending time with someone you care about, the way I see it.”

She tilts her head, curious. “Have you been on a lot of Valentine’s dates?”

He narrows his eyes at her, smirking. “This feels like a trick question.”

“It’s not,” she laughs. Her hand slips from his and falls to his thigh in a way that makes her cheeks burn. She can’t seem to help herself around him. “I really do want to know. You know my history; I’ve never been on a Valentine’s date before. I’m curious what your experiences have been.”

He runs his knuckles over the scruff on his chin, considering. “Nothing worth writing home about,” he muses. “But nothing too bad, either. Most of the time it’s felt like a formality, honestly. Like, I’m dating this girl, so of course I have to take her out, but it doesn’t always feel like anything special.”

“That’s kind of sad,” Willow murmurs.

“But not this year,” he grins. “This year I wanted to give you a special night that would mean something to both of us, to show you that I care about you, because I do.”

Her heart melts, just a little bit, because he says the sweetest things to her, and it doesn’t even feel like he’s trying. She leans in to kiss him again. “Thank you for always insisting that I need a night off, even if it’s during the week and even if I always protest.”

“You already know how I feel about your lack of regard for yourself,” he scolds, narrowing his eyes at her.

She rolls her eyes playfully. “You try raising a seven-month-old while keeping a full-time job and somehow being cute and available for your boyfriend.”

“Hey,” he says, covering her hand with his own. “First of all, you’re always cute.” He winks, and she can’t help but laugh. “Second of all, you know I’m always willing to help out with Jaxon, if I can. Maybe I’ll give Lulu a day off next week. I can keep him for you at your place while you work.”

It’s a generous offer, one that she’s not sure he’s actually thought about seriously. She quirks her brow with a smirk. “Are you sure you want to offer that? You know he’s crawling now, right? He’s into _everything_.”

He chuckles. “It’ll give us some bonding time,” he jokes. “Come on, I’m serious. I miss the little guy. I never get to see him anymore, since Lulu’s hogging his attention.”

If her heart wasn’t already melted before, it is now. She smiles. “If you’re sure. He can be a real handful. You have to keep an eye on him at all times.”

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

“It’s not that,” she laughs. “I don’t trust Jaxon to be on his best behavior, honestly. I’m just trying to prepare you. But if you really want to help, I would love for you to spend some time with Jaxon. I know he misses you, too.” She sips her drink, smiles innocently. “And I feel much better knowing that you have Lulu’s number in case of emergency.”

“Hey.” He narrows his eyes playfully as she laughs.

They take their drinks to a cozy table in the corner and spend the next hour and a half nibbling on appetizers and talking about everything and nothing, all at the same time. It still surprises her, sometimes, how easily the conversation flows between them. He’s so sweet that he makes her smile, so goofy that he makes her laugh, so sexy that he makes her blush. Despite her lack of experience in the dating department, he’s never once made her feel silly or uncomfortable, and she has the fleeting thought that even if this ends up going nowhere, she’s thankful that her first real dating experience was with someone like him.

He’s just telling her a crazy story about his high school days when her phone rings. Her heart falls into her stomach when she sees Lulu’s name. She’s never called while she’s been watching Jaxon before, and her gut tells her something is very wrong. She answers quickly. “Lulu? What’s wrong?”

She hears the hum of an engine, as if Lulu’s driving, which immediately sets Willow on edge. “I’m sorry, Willow, I hate to bug you, but…”

“No, it’s okay.” She meets Chase’s eyes, and his brow furrows in concern. “What’s wrong? Is Jaxon okay?”

“He’s running a pretty vicious fever,” Lulu says calmly, matter-of-factly. “He’s a little bit lethargic and fussy and just not himself. I’m taking him to GH now.”

Her whole body feels numb. Her baby is sick, and she’s not there to comfort him. She feels her throat close up in panic. “Okay, we’re on our way now. We’ll meet you there.”

“Try not to panic, okay?” Lulu insists. “He’ll be just fine, Willow.”

“No promises.” She hangs up quickly, turning to Chase, who looks worried. “Lulu’s taking Jaxon to GH. We need to go. Now.”

He quickly pays their tab while she paces anxiously by the door, and he places a comforting hand on her back as he leads her to his car. All she can think as he pulls out onto the main road is that she missed all the signs. She always knows when he’s sick; she can always tell when he’s not feeling well. Was she so blinded by her excitement for her date that she ignored her own son? How could she have been so distracted that she didn’t know he was sick?”

Chase takes her hand comfortingly as he drives, mercifully, as fast as he can without turning his siren on. “Willow,” he calls, pulling her out of her thoughts. “He’s going to be okay, babe.”

“What if he’s really sick, Chase?” she worries, her voice high in panic.

“He’s in good hands at GH,” Chase reminds her calmly. “I know you’re worried, but you need to be calm when we get there, okay? He’s going to feed off your emotions, and if you’re upset, it’s only going to upset him, too.”

She takes a deep breath, knowing that he’s right, and she’s exceedingly thankful for whatever training allowed him to be so cool and collected in a crisis. While her mind automatically goes to the worst-case scenario, his analytical mind goes into problem-solving mode, and she’s never been more grateful for the contrast.

The drive is pretty much a blur, and she doesn’t even remember parking in the garage, or getting into the elevator. She practically runs to Lulu when they finally make it to the pediatric floor, and Chase follows behind. “Where is he?” she asks, hugging her friend gratefully.

“He’s okay, just like I told you,” Lulu informs her. “Finn is running some tests right now, but they think it’s just an ear infection, nothing too alarming.” Willow exhales in relief, closing her eyes as Chase’s hands come to rest on her shoulders, his thumb gently massaging a knot in the back of her neck. “He’s right in there. You should be able to go right in and see him.”

“I’ll go track down Finn,” Chase offers.

Willow puts a hand out to stop him. As grateful as she is that he wants to help by expediting the process, what she really needs is to have him by her side as she goes to comfort her son. “Will you come with me?” she asks timidly.

His eyes soften and he smiles. “Of course,” he agrees. “Lead the way.”

Elizabeth is tending to her sweet baby boy, who’s playing with a light-up toy in his crib. He looks uncomfortable, not quite himself, but he’s not crying, and she’s grateful for that. “Look, Jaxon, Mommy’s here,” Elizabeth murmurs.

“Hi, baby,” she smiles, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She runs her fingertip down his cheek, and he holds his arms out for her. She looks up at Elizabeth. “Can I hold him?”

“Of course,” Elizabeth nods. “I’ll go get Finn for you.”

Willow vaguely registers Chase thanking Elizabeth as she carefully lifts Jaxon out of his crib, wary of the IV stuck in his tiny hand. She kisses his warm cheek, flushed with the fever that hasn’t quite broken yet, and holds him close. She feels Chase’s comforting hand on her back, and she’s thankful she asked him to come with her, because she doesn’t know if she’d be able to handle this alone. She knows he’s okay, and she’s sure the antibiotics are already working their magic and they’ll be home in no time. But seeing her sweet baby hooked up to all these machines… she’s usually in awe of how big he’s getting, but right now, he just looks so small and vulnerable. She’s sure this will be a mildly traumatic experience for both of them, and it helps to have Chase there for moral support.

“Mommy’s here, baby,” she says soothingly as he fusses, tugging on his left ear uncomfortably. “I can’t believe I didn’t know he was sick,” she murmurs, mostly to herself.

Chase hums. “Don’t do that to yourself,” he says. “There’s no way you could have known.”

“I’m his mom,” she insists. “I’m supposed to have a sense for things like this. I thought he was fine when I dropped him off at Lulu’s.”

“Willow,” he murmurs, his hand cupping the back of her neck, massaging gently. “He’s going to be okay.”

She knows that. Logically, she knows that, but he can’t really blame her for throwing logic out the window when it comes to her baby boy. She decides to change the subject to avoid starting an argument with him. “Look who came to see you, Jax,” she smiles, turning him to face Chase. “It’s your favorite policeman.”

“Hey, buddy,” Chase smiles, running his hand over Jaxon’s head. “We’re gonna get you all fixed up and out of here, okay? No worries, my man.”

Finn enters the room then, smiling at the three of them. “Oh, good, you’re here,” he says. “Chase, listen, I would have called, but…”

“But there’s laws against that sort of thing, I know,” Chase chuckles. “Thanks for taking care of him, Finn.”

“Do you know what’s going on?” Willow asks nervously.

Finn smiles reassuringly. “Routine ear infection,” he informs her. “Nothing to be too alarmed about, but I do see on his medical record that he’s had a couple of them already. Just keep an eye on him, and if they become more frequent or more aggressive, we may need to run some additional tests in the future. But for now, we’re going to keep him on an antibiotic drip for another hour or so, make sure his fever has gone down, and then I should be able to send you all home with a prescription for an oral antibiotic. Should be completely clear in another few days or so.”

Chase smiles, running his hand down Jaxon’s back. He’s now laying his head on Willow’s shoulder, eyes drooping tiredly. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you so much, Finn,” Willow says gratefully.

“Hey,” he says seriously, stepping toward them. He claps his brother on the back affectionately. “You two are important to Chase. So by extension, you’re important to me.” He smiles. “I’ll be back in an hour to check in on him, okay?”

Willow nods and turns to Chase as Finn leaves the room. “Your brother really cares about you,” she says, smiling.

“Yeah, I guess he does,” Chase muses. He smiles down at her, then looks to Jaxon again. “I think he’s out cold,” he chuckles. “Must have needed mom’s cuddles to settle him down.”

She smiles. “Maybe so.”

Chase helps move Jaxon’s IV pole toward the recliner in the room so Willow can sit with him. He leans down in front of her, rests his hands on his knees. “I’m gonna go give Lulu the all-clear, and then I’ll be back, okay?”

“Thank you, Chase,” Willow murmurs. There’s so much more she wants to say, but for now, this will have to do. “Thank you for everything.”

He leans in to kiss her. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmurs back with a smile. He runs his hand over Jaxon’s head so tenderly it makes her want to cry all over again, and as he leaves the room, she’s struck once again by how much better everything seems - or at least more bearable - with him by her side.

… … …

Despite his calm exterior, he’ll admit that he was pretty panicked to hear that Jaxon was being admitted to GH. He doesn’t know much about babies, honestly, and while Lulu told them not to worry, he can’t imagine that a baby with a high fever is a good thing by any means. But Willow was panicking enough for the both of them, and he knew that the only way to support her was to stay calm. He’s thankful for his extensive training that allowed him to slip into crisis management mode, to handle things that she definitely couldn’t in her state of mind, like driving and navigating the hospital. The wave of relief that he felt when he saw Jaxon, awake, alert, and okay, was unlike anything he’s ever felt. He can only imagine that what Willow experienced was similar to his own, multiplied by a thousand.

And this is how he knows that he’s in deep, even deeper than he thought - because he’s not only falling in love with Willow. He’s falling in love with her son, too.

He’s just coming out of the elevator on Finn’s floor after walking Lulu to her car - she protested, but it’s late, and he knows firsthand what kind of craziness goes on in the GH parking garage - when he runs into Michael, of all people.

“Hey,” Chase says in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Michael laughs. “Is everything okay?”

“Willow had a scare with Jaxon,” he explains. “We were at the Floating Rib and Lulu had to bring him in with a fever. She’s down in the pediatric ward with him now.”

He doesn’t miss the look on Michael’s face as soon as he mentions Willow, then the obvious concern when he mentions Jaxon. “But he’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, Finn took good care of him,” he says. “Actually, I was just trying to find him to thank him, but of course, he’s nowhere to be found,” Chase chuckles.

Michael seems distracted. “Do you mind if I come down to see Willow and Jaxon with you?” he asks.

Chase tries to mask his surprise. “Uh, yeah, sure,” Chase agrees. “I’m sure Willow will appreciate your concern.”

He has his suspicions, naturally, but they’re not confirmed until he watches as Michael squeezes Willow’s shoulder reassuringly, runs his hand over Jaxon’s head not unlike the way he did just a few minutes ago. Michael likes her. He chuckles humorlessly to himself as he watches them from outside the room, waiting for Elizabeth to come by so he can ask her where to find Finn.

He should’ve known, really. He knew they were friends, and that they’d spent time together outside of Jaxon’s playgroup a few times. And considering their shared history with Nelle, it’s worth noting that he and Michael seem to be attracted to the same women. Michael has a strong desire to help people, especially those who run into trouble; he knows, and he understands, because Chase has the same desire. He wouldn’t compare Willow to Nelle, in any shape or form, but in a way, it feels a little bit like déjà vu.

He knows Michael can be charming; he’s seen over and over again the way women of all ages just fall at his feet. The doting big brother, the philanthropic billionaire, the loyal son and friend. He also knows that he considers Michael a friend, and Michael knows that he and Willow have been together for a few months now. Not to mention that Michael has already assured him that he would help Chase with whatever he needed to protect Willow and Jaxon. But he can’t help but wonder now where those motives come from; is he being a good friend, or does he have ulterior motives?

Sometimes he hates being a detective; he can never just take anything at face value, or assess a situation without coming up with a thousand theories. Michael wouldn’t pursue Willow, not when he knows how Chase feels about her. But, considering their history, it does make him uneasy that Michael seems to have a crush on his girlfriend.

He decides to put away his badge, as Lulu says, and focus on what’s important tonight, and that’s Jaxon’s health and Willow’s emotional state. He can put his own feelings aside and be thankful that Willow has friends like Michael and Lulu to be there for her when things get tough. In the meantime, he’ll think of a way to address the situation with Michael, man to man. Just when he thinks things are finally going smoothly…

… … …

For the hundredth time this evening, she thanks her lucky stars that she had Chase by her side to help her through the craziness. He never left her side, helped her navigate Jaxon’s discharge paperwork, asked all the questions she was too tired to remember. She’s practically sleepwalking at this point, and she’s not the one who worked a twelve-hour shift; she can only imagine how exhausted he must be. And yet, here he is, helping her up to her second-floor walk-up after midnight, like it’s no bother to him at all.

Jaxon is exhausted, and he whined pitifully the whole way home, tugging on his ear painfully. It physically hurts her to see her baby in so much pain, knowing there’s not much she can do to help. Chase unlocks her door for her while she bounces a very unhappy Jaxon in her arms. “I have no idea how long it’ll take me to get him down,” she sighs as they enter her apartment and he locks the door behind them. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, and you probably have to work in the morning.”

“I have tomorrow off, actually,” he says with a smile. “And I’m happy to stay if you need me.”

Her heart jumps in her chest. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Yes, you can, because I want to help. We’re in a relationship, remember?” he smirks, and she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “People in relationships lean on one another, and I want you to lean on me now.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just your detective hero complex, wanting to swoop in and save the day?” She quirks her brow.

“Maybe,” he laughs. “But you’re exhausted, and I don’t think you’re in a position to deny help when it’s offered, and I’m going to take full advantage of the opportunity to take care of you. Okay?”

She could grumble and assert her independence, or she could let her heart melt at the fact that he clearly just wants to be there for her, to help her out because he cares, not because he expects anything in return. So she chooses to just be grateful he’s here and leans up to kiss him in concession. “Okay,” she murmurs.

She thought it might feel weird, with him in the middle of her normal bedtime routine with Jaxon, but he fits into their world like a puzzle piece she didn’t know was missing. He moves around her effortlessly, seemingly knowing exactly what she needs before she does; helping her give Jaxon a new dose of medication, bringing her a towel to dry him off after a quick bath, turning on his sound machine as she rocks him to sleep. It feels right, she thinks tiredly, having him here.

When he’s finally down for the count, Willow drags herself into the living room and finds Chase lying on the sofa, absently watching the sports highlights from the day. She’s momentarily overwhelmed with gratitude that he’s here, and she leans down to kiss him sweetly.

He smiles against her mouth. “Did he go down okay?”

She nods, sighing as she lies down beside him, fitting herself against his side, resting her head on his chest. “He’ll be up in a few hours, I’m sure,” she says through a yawn. “But at least he’s resting right now.”

Chase nods, his arm coming around her to rest on her shoulder, pulling her closer against him. “I’m sure he’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I have to call Principal Schultz in the morning,” she groans. “Let him know I’ll need a substitute, at least for tomorrow.”

Chase nods, presses his lips to her forehead absently. “I’ll make sure you’re up in time,” he assures her.

She closes her eyes, and another wave of gratitude - mixed with relief and exhaustion, probably - almost brings tears to her eyes. She bites her lip to will them away. “Thank you for being here,” she murmurs.

He’s muttering something about how he wouldn’t be anywhere else, but she’s drifting off to sleep in his arms, and it must be the exhaustion talking, because she’s thinking that she wouldn’t mind falling asleep like this every night for a while. Maybe even forever.

… … …

He wakes up to a whimpering cry coming from the baby monitor, and he’s momentarily disoriented before he remembers where he is. Which is, at the moment, sandwiched between Willow and the back of her sofa as she snoozes peacefully. She’s currently using his right arm as a pillow, which means that he can’t feel his fingers one bit, but he won’t complain.

He turns his attention back to the noise that woke him. He carefully climbs over Sleeping Beauty and replaces his arm with a pillow, pulling a blanket over her before quickly moving toward the nursery to see what Jaxon needs.

He’s standing up in his crib when Chase enters, whimpering pitifully. “Hey, buddy,” he murmurs, lifting the little boy out of his crib and holding him close. Jaxon lays his head down against his shoulder almost immediately, and Chase can’t help but smile, knowing he has the ability to soothe him when he’s upset. It’s an odd sort of proud feeling that he doesn’t quite know what to make of, to be honest.

He dismisses that thought and runs his hand over Jaxon’s back, sneaking him past Willow into the kitchen, where he manages to give him his next dose of antibiotics and Motrin without totally pissing him off. Back to the nursery to change his wet diaper, and then back to the living room, where the lays down on the floor and sits Jaxon next to him. Chase fully expects him to scoot around, play with his toys, but he’s pleasantly surprised when Jaxon presses his face into his chest, his eyes drooping tiredly already.

He won’t lie, he’s pretty damn proud of the way he handled that without Willow’s help at all. As much as he insists he can handle these things - and clearly, he can - he knows Willow has much more experience and handles pretty much everything better than he does.

He wanders back into the living room after laying Jaxon back down and finds Willow sitting up on the couch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and stretching her arms above her head. She smiles when she sees him approaching. “Morning,” she says, her voice gravelly from sleep.

Chase hums. “Morning.” He leans down to kiss her forehead.

“Did Jaxon wake up again?” she asks through a yawn.

He sits down next to her, fighting back a yawn of his own, and pulls her against him. “Yeah. I changed him, gave him his medicine, and he went right back down.”

She leans up to kiss him gratefully. “Thank you for doing that.”

“I told you, I’m here to help,” he reminds her.

She rests against him for a bit, waking up slowly, and he listens as she calls Principal Schultz to let him know she won’t be in today. It’s nice, he thinks, just sitting here with her like this. It feels normal, and he kind of loves the idea of developing a new kind of normal with the three of them together.

He’s enjoying the silence and contemplating taking a little nap when she tips her chin up to look at him. “What was Michael doing at GH last night?”

“I never got it out of him, actually. He was so worried about you and Jaxon that he never told me.” He clears his throat then, decides that maybe he can probe the situation from her end, too. “I don’t think I knew that you two knew each other that well.”

She tilts her head, considering. “We don’t, not really,” she tells him. “We talked a few times after Saturday playgroup, and… now that you mention it, he did ask me out a few times. But I was already with you, and even though we had only gone on a date or two at that point, I liked you enough that I didn’t want to jeopardize it.”

He tries to pretend like the flash of heat in his chest isn’t jealousy. (It totally is.) “So are you saying that you didn’t go out with him because you didn’t want to jeopardize things with me, or because you didn’t want to go on a date with him?”

“Chase.” She furrows her brow, sits up to face him, tucking her knees underneath her. “I never had any desire to go out with Michael. We’re friends, and he understands that. I know you told him about us, and I did, too. He told me he’d take a step back, that he’d get over it.”

Chase scoffs. “How noble of him.”

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” she asks seriously. “This is not you. I know you’re not jealous of Michael, because there’s nothing for you to be jealous of. You two are friends, are you not?”

He runs his knuckles along his chin. “There’s quite a bit of history there.”

“Spill it,” she demands. “Because whatever it is, you’re not acting like yourself right now, and I don’t like it.”

He sighs. “I’m gonna need a cup of coffee for this conversation.”

She crosses her arms over her chest in annoyance. “Pour me one while you’re at it.”

He doesn’t blame her, honestly; he’s a little annoyed with himself for acting like a jerk. It doesn’t really matter how Michael feels about Willow, because Chase knows how Willow feels about him, and he trusts her. He trusts Michael, too. So he’s not sure where these feelings are coming from, but he has a feeling it has to do with the Nelle situation. He hates to think that she has that kind of power over him, or any power at all.

So he won’t let her. He’ll tell Willow what happened, and he’ll clear the air with Michael, and she’ll be forgotten, once and for all.

“When I came to Port Charles,” he begins, handing her a steaming mug of coffee as he retakes his seat beside her, “about a year ago now, I wasn’t just interested because of the detective opening, or the opportunity to be closer to my brother. I was actually following up on an old case that I had botched a few years prior, in Florida, involving Jenelle Benson.”

Willow’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Wait, you mean Nelle? Like, Michael’s Nelle?”

“See, here’s the thing: before she was Michael’s Nelle, she was Zachary Grant’s Nelle, and she murdered him after he wrote her into his will, to get ahold of his money. I was the investigating officer on the scene in Blue Cape, Maine, when the incident happened.” He clears his throat. “I thought Nelle was innocent, but all the evidence pointed to her. I followed her back to Florida, wanting to exonerate her, and we… we became romantically involved.”

He looks up at her, then, tries to gauge her reaction, but she’s mercifully (annoyingly) objective.

“Almost immediately, someone put in a tip with the department I was working with,” he explains. “I was reported for inappropriate behavior.”

“She manipulated you,” Willow murmurs.

He nods. “But I knew better, anyway; under no circumstances is it ever okay to become personally involved in a case that way. She got the whole case against her thrown out, and I had to basically start my career from scratch. I moved to Boston to be closer to my parents while I picked up the pieces Jenelle left in her wake,” he reveals. “I rebuilt my reputation, made Detective, and when the position opened up at the PCPD… it was almost like the universe was giving me a second chance to redeem myself.”

“And then you and Michael trapped her into a confession,” Willow finishes. “I know that part. It’s practically legend around here.”

He nods, takes a sip of his coffee, and opens his mouth to continue.

“So basically,” Willow interrupts. “What you’re saying is that you’re drawing conclusions from your history with Michael that you’re both attracted to the same women, and it makes you uneasy.”

He smiles sheepishly. “I guess so, yeah,” he chuckles. “You pretty much nailed it.”

“I think spending so much time with you has sharpened my detective skills,” she teases.

“Maybe so,” he laughs, grateful she’s not put off by the story he just told, or by his irrational jealousy. “So… now you know.”

“I’m glad you told me,” she reassures him. “So you made a mistake; who hasn’t? But the fact that you went to such lengths to make it right, to see that justice was served…” she smiles sweetly at him. “That’s the Detective Chase I know.”

He closes the short distance between them, kisses her gratefully. “You’re always surprising me, you know that?”

“Hey, I bared all my skeletons to you.” She narrows her eyes at him. “It’s about time you return the favor.”

“Ha, ha.” He rolls his eyes.

“And just so you know.” She leans in close, rests her forehead against his, a smile on her lips. “Michael’s not a threat. Regardless of how he feels about me, you’re the one I want to be with, Chase. I promise.”

He didn’t really need the reassurance, but it’s nice to have it, nonetheless. He kisses her. “No more secrets now.”

She hums, shaking her head. “No more secrets.”

And when she kisses him again, it’s like the weight of the world lifts off his shoulders, and he finally, _finally_ feels like he’s moved on.

… … …

By the time lunchtime rolls around, Jaxon has woken up and fallen back asleep three more times, they’ve had three cups of coffee each, and Chase looks absolutely exhausted. As much as he tries to hide it, and as much as she can tell she wants to help, she finally forces him to go home and get some actual sleep, with the promise that he can come back later if he really wants to.

She’s grateful for a little bit of silence, honestly, and for time to be alone with her thoughts for a moment. She hasn’t really had any time to process what Chase told her about his past with Michael and Nelle. And honestly, there’s not that much to process, she realizes - what happened between the three of them is in the past, and she hopes it stays there, now that Chase’s unexpected burst of jealousy has been put to bed. But she is thankful that there are no more secrets between them, that they can just be together without the burden of their respective pasts.

She’s just given Jaxon another dose of antibiotics and put him down for another nap when, like an angel from heaven, Lulu appears at her front door with takeout from the Floating Rib.

“I come bearing rations,” she jokes, setting the bag on the kitchen table. “I figured since you didn’t actually get to have your date last night, I would bring you food to enjoy in the comfort of your home. I was kind of hoping Chase would be here, too.” She quirks her brow.

“You’re not subtle,” Willow laughs, moving into the kitchen to grab plates and utensils.

“So I’ve been told.”

“You just missed him, actually.” She sets the utensils on the table, pulls the boxes out of the bag, and her mouth waters at the scent of actual food, which she realizes she hasn’t eaten since their appetizers last night. “And since he’s not here, you’ll just have to share this delicious food with me.”

Lulu shrugs. “Twist my arm.” She takes a seat at the table as Willow serves the food. “How’s Jaxon?”

“Sleeping, thankfully,” Willow sighs. “He’s pretty much been sleeping between doses of antibiotics, which is much better than the pitiful whimpering he does when he’s awake. It just breaks my heart.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s okay,” Lulu says. She takes a bite of her pasta. “I am sorry it cut your date short, but it does seem like you and Chase are at the point now where things like that don’t really matter.”

Willow nods. “He told me about he and Nelle this morning,” she reveals. “About everything that went down before he came to Port Charles, and how it brought he and Michael together. And it feels like now that we’ve established what we’re doing, and we’ve finally aired all our secrets, it’s like… full speed ahead.”

Lulu studies her, and Willow shifts uncomfortably under her stare. “Why do I get the feeling that you’re not happy about that?”

Busted. She can always count on Lulu, she thinks in annoyance, to look deep enough below the surface and figure out exactly what she’s thinking. “It’s not that I’m not happy,” she hedges.

“You’re scared.”

“Wouldn’t you be?” Willow asks seriously. “This is really big stuff, Lulu.”

Lulu sighs. “You’re thinking about it too much. Again,” Lulu scolds.

Willow groans in frustration, sets her fork down on the table with just a little too much force. She winces, looking hesitantly toward the door to Jaxon’s nursery, but thankfully, he’s still fast asleep. She rubs her temples in exhaustion. “I’ve never been this connected to anyone,” she explains, quietly, timidly. “I’ve never been this vulnerable. I’ve never relied on anyone the way I do with him.”

“That’s a good thing.” Lulu smiles. “That’s love, Willow.”

_Love_. Willow tries to ignore the way her heart jumps in her chest. It’s not that she’s never thought about it before; in fact, she can recall a few moments last night where she remembers the word floating around in her mind. At the very least, at this point, she’s _falling_ in love with him. It’s hard to say, since she’s never experienced it before, but it feels like a good way to describe where they are, where they’re headed. They’re quickly approaching a day when she won’t be able to picture her life without him, and she would like to believe that he feels the same way. But that’s a conversation they haven’t even begun to approach, and it’s weird and scary and nerve-wracking to think about at this moment.

“We haven’t even begun to go there yet,” she argues.

“Doesn’t mean you’re not starting to feel it.” Lulu nods knowingly. “You’re terrified because you’re falling in love with him.”

_Bingo_. God, how does she _do_ that?

“It just feels like a lot,” Willow says uneasily. “And it’s all happening so fast.”

“Fast,” Lulu says through a laugh. “Willow, it’s taken you two almost five months to get to this point. If you moved any slower, you’d be a glacier.”

Willow narrows her eyes at her friend. “Will you stop making fun of me?”

“I’m not making fun of you, sweetie.” Lulu takes her hand. “I just want you to be happy, and you can’t seem to let yourself do it. Why are you so afraid to really let your guard down?”

“Because as soon as I do, everything’s going to come crashing down.”

She says it without thinking, almost instinctually, and she realizes there’s a trend in the way she’s handled just about everything since she came to Port Charles. Her reluctance to trust anyone, her hesitance to put down real roots, her fear of opening up to Chase… she’s terrified of letting her guard down, of allowing herself to be vulnerable, content. Happy. It’s a foreign concept, and she’s afraid to feel it, because there are so many unknown variables in play. There are too many ways her happiness could be stolen away from her, and she doesn’t know if she’d be able to handle it.

“You have to stop being afraid of living your life, Willow,” Lulu insists. “You have to stop worrying about variables that you can’t control and just play the hand you’ve been dealt. You have a beautiful son, and a job you love, and a man in your life who cares about both of you. Not to mention a fabulous best friend who is basically Jaxon’s other parent.” Willow laughs. “Don’t let your fears cloud your vision so much that you miss what’s right in front of you.”

She knows Lulu’s right. But, Willow reminds herself, she also doesn’t know the full story. And if she did, she’d know why Willow can’t let her guard down, not completely, not for a second. But she can at least start to appreciate the good things in her life, to enjoy them while they’re here, even if they don’t last forever.

(And she has a sinking feeling that nothing good she has now is going to last much longer.)

… … …


	7. I might be okay, but I'm not fine at all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "all too well" by taylor swift.
> 
> { I own nothing }  
> & any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show & is credited to the writers.

… … …

He’s not one of those guys who has to know where his girl is at all times. Willow has a full-time job and a son to take care of, so it’s not like he expects her to be available to talk every time he calls or texts. And for the first few days after Valentine’s Day, her sparse communication doesn’t bother him; he knows she had to take some time off work to care for Jaxon, and she’s likely still nursing him back to health. He understands that, and he doesn’t take it personally.

But then a few days turns into a week, and a week turns into two, and he begins to think maybe he _should_ take it personally. She’s hardly answered or returned any of his phone calls, and her texts are short and impersonal. He can’t help but wonder if she’s changed her mind about them, after hearing his backstory about Nelle and his jealous fit over Michael. God, if she would just _talk_ to him, maybe he could explain.

It’s been two and a half weeks, and he’s honestly at the point where he’s more worried than annoyed or frustrated. She hasn’t responded to a single text message in the last three days, and he hasn’t even bothered to call, knowing she won’t answer. He spends most of the morning at work trying to convince himself that she’ll talk to him when she’s ready, and he almost (not really) forgets about the situation until Lulu walks into the station that afternoon.

“Hey,” she greets with a smile, setting a clear tupperware full of some kind of soup on his desk. “Working hard or hardly working?”

Chase rubs his eyes, bleary from staring at his computer screen for the last hour, and sighs. “I’m trying to work, but honestly, I’m a little distracted. I’m worried about Willow.”

Lulu nods sympathetically. “Me, too,” she agrees. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. I don’t have time to go by her place today, but I’m sure you’ll be over there later, so I brought some of my mom’s chicken soup. Hopefully it’ll help her feel better.”

Chase furrows his brow. “Willow’s sick? Is she okay?”

Lulu nods, mirroring his look of confusion. “You didn’t know? I just figured you’d been over there, helping her out.”

Now he’s kind of pissed off. “I would have been, except I’ve hardly spoken to her at all since Valentine’s Day.”

Lulu’s eyes widen, and she groans in exasperation. “I swear, that girl…” She takes a seat in the chair next to his desk and sets her bag on the floor. “She’s been running herself into the ground since Jaxon first got sick, and now he’s been fighting another ear infection and teething for the last week or so. She pretty much goes to work, comes home to take care of him, and then she’s usually up all night with him.” She sighs. “The only reason I haven’t been on her case is because she told me she had enough help. I just assumed she meant you.”

He scowls. “No, she didn’t mean me, because she stopped answering or returning my calls, and her texts are useless, if she responds at all. It feels like she’s trying to avoid me.” He sighs heavily. “I told her everything about Nelle and Michael that morning, and everything seemed okay, but what if she’s changed her mind?”

“Chase, you know her better than that,” Lulu scolds him. “She cares about you. I know she’s told you things that she hasn’t even told me, so she _must_ care about you. If I had to guess, I would assume she’s in survival mode and doesn’t want to ask for help from anyone. She knows that you’d jump at the chance to save the day, and she feels like she’s imposing. On both of us, it seems, since she’s been lying to me.”

The more Lulu explains, the more he has to fight to control his temper. He knows she likes to handle things herself, doesn’t like to rely on anyone; he practically had to beg her to let him help her that first night when Jaxon was sick. It’s one of the things he admires about her, how she never seems to _need_ anyone. But the fact that she wouldn’t even tell him what’s going on because she didn’t want him involved… it doesn’t just piss him off, it _hurts_.

“She has to know I would have offered to help, if I had known she was struggling.”

“She does know that,” Lulu agrees. “I think that’s the problem. She knows you’re busy with work, and you’ve got your own things to worry about…”

“Yeah, well.” He stands up, runs his hand through his hair, grabs his jacket where it lays over the back of his chair. “Now I’m worried about her, which means I’m not getting any work done, and honestly, I’m a little offended that she thinks I’d prioritize work over her and Jaxon, in any circumstance.”

Lulu shrugs. “She’s never had anyone care about her the way you do, Chase.”

“And while that makes sense,” he agrees, grabbing the container of chicken soup and following Lulu toward the door, “she’s just going to have to deal with it, because I do care about her, and this is what I do for the people I care about.”

He can’t wait for the day when she finally realizes that his offers to help aren’t attached to any sense of obligation or formalities; that when he cares about someone, he wants to help, to take care of them in any way he can. Maybe that makes her uneasy, but like he said, she’s going to have to learn to deal with it.

… … …

She’s on the verge of losing it.

She doesn’t remember the last time she felt this overwhelmed. Jaxon hasn’t let her put him down in what feels like days. She hasn’t washed her hair in… she honestly doesn’t remember. She called out of work today for the fifth time in the last two weeks, which she’s sure her boss isn’t pleased about. Her apartment is a disaster of dirty dishes, unmade beds, and unfolded laundry. And, on top of everything, her head is so congested that she can hardly keep her eyes open.

She’s been putting on a brave face, but honestly, the last two and half weeks have been hell. Since Valentine’s Day, Jaxon has developed another ear infection and began teething at the same time. He’s been fussy, and clingy, and since he won’t sleep more than an hour or two at a time, she’s hardly slept in the last two weeks. She knows that Chase or Lulu would be around to help in a heartbeat if she asked, but she doesn’t want to burden anyone with things that she knows she can handle herself. As grateful as she is to have people in her life that love her, she’s relied on them enough, and she can survive this little rough patch without bothering anyone else.

But now, between the lack of sleep, the stress of trying to handle all of this without burdening anyone else, and her own budding illness, she finds herself standing at her kitchen sink, holding a whimpering Jaxon and trying to wash the dishes through the blur of tears.

As if on cue, there’s a knock at her door, and as if on instinct, she knows who it is. She’s not even startled when he attempts to open the locked door. “Willow,” Chase calls. “Open the door, please.”

She doesn’t even have the energy to argue with him. She turns the water off, wipes the tears from her cheeks, and moves to open the door, unsurprised when he barrels inside, his eyes flashing with equal parts anger and concern. He looks her over quickly, his eyes softening in concern when he inevitably notices her red-rimmed eyes, her tear-stained cheeks. “What the hell, Willow?” he sighs in exasperation, taking Jaxon from her arms and running a hand over his back. Unfortunately, he’s clearly in pain, and he just continues to whimper and cry helplessly.

She tries to force a smile, but it doesn’t even come close. “I know what you’re going to say,” she begins.

“Yeah, I’m sure you do,” he chuckles humorlessly. “Do you know how worried I’ve been about you?”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she murmurs. She feels the pressure of tears behind her eyes again, and she sits down on the sofa, her head falling into her hands. Chase paces her living room, comforting Jaxon as his cries slowly (mercifully) begin to quiet. She massages her temples, fighting off a splitting headache. “I’ve been handling it on my own. I didn’t need to bother anyone else with my problems.”

She can tell that he’s fighting the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and when he meets her eyes again, they’re calmer now, more concern than anger. “Willow,” he says calmly, steadily. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this before you finally believe it: asking for help when things get difficult is not _bothering_ me. That’s what I’m here for. No matter what I’ve got going on at work, or whatever other reasons you’ve got in your head, you can always call me when you need me.”

She wants to tell him that she doesn’t _need_ him, but she knows that’s not his point. He _wants_ to be there for her, and she can tell that he’s hurt that she shut him out. She feels her cheeks heat up in shame, annoyed with herself for not realizing that by trying to spare him and handling things herself, she was actually hurting his feelings. “Thank you,” she says, because she honestly doesn’t know what else to say at this point.

“You don’t need to thank me.” He sets Jaxon down on the floor, now that he seems more content, and places a toy in front of him. He sits down next to Willow, pulling her toward him and into his arms. “Sorry. I just hate that you’ve been struggling for weeks and didn’t feel like you could call me to help you.”

“I knew I could call you,” she corrects him, catching a stray tear with her finger. “I just…”

“Didn’t want to bother me, I know.” He almost rolls his eyes. He leans in and kisses her, and she feels calmer than she has in almost two weeks. “You’re lucky I like how stubborn you are,” he smiles against your lips.

She smiles and leans in to press her lips to his again. “Sorry I’m such a pain in the ass.” She leans into him, resting her forehead against his chest in pure exhaustion. “I just want him to feel better,” she whimpers helplessly.

“I know, babe,” he murmurs sympathetically. “But you can’t take care of him very well if you’re not taking care of yourself.” He kisses her forehead, pushes her messy hair away from her face. “You feel a little bit warm.”

She could argue, pretend like she’s fine, but her head is pounding and she’s completely exhausted and she doesn’t feel like pretending anymore. “I feel like I got hit by a train.”

He sighs heavily, exasperation rolling off him in waves. “Well,” he says decisively, I’m here now. Why don’t you go take a bath, or a shower, whatever will make you feel better, and then lay down for a bit. I can handle Jaxon. When’s his next dose of antibiotics?”

She narrows her eyes. “Did Finn call you?”

He chuckles. “No. Doctor-patient confidentiality. I talked to Lulu. She said you told her you had plenty of help.” He levels his gaze at her, and she smiles sheepishly. “You really _are_ a pain in my ass,” he mumbles.

“He just got another dose, which is probably why he’s calmed down a bit now,” she tells him. “He may need some Motrin soon, though, for the pain.”

He nods. “We’ve got it covered.” He stands up, pulls her with him, steers her down the hallway. “Now go and relax. We’ll just have some guy time out here. Watch the Sox game, drink a couple beers, you know, the usual.”

She rolls her eyes, but she does as she’s told. “Am I allowed to say thank you, Detective?”

“If it’ll make you feel better,” he sighs.

“Thank you.” She smiles sweetly, kissing his cheek. She leans down to kiss her son’s head as she passes, slips into her bedroom and closes the door.

She doesn’t know if she’ll ever get used to being taken care of the way he takes care of her, but she’s not too stubborn to admit when she’s in over her head. When she emerges from her room after a shower and a two-hour nap, feeling human enough to handle the chaos again, she finds the two of them asleep on the couch with the Red Sox post-game show on TV, and she has a fleeting moment where she feels like she’s seeing straight into her future.

She can’t say she doesn’t like what she sees.

… … …

It feels like things have finally settled into a normal routine between he and Willow. He can’t say he doesn’t love the feeling of calm stability that has settled over his life. Lulu still keeps Jaxon during the week, unless Chase has a day off, in which case he stays at Willow’s apartment with the kid while she works, and then usually hangs out most of the evening after she gets home. Even some days when Lulu keeps him, Chase finds himself at her place, playing with Jaxon and sometimes taking him home if Willow’s going to be late. He has a key to her place - strictly for Jaxon’s benefit, she insists - and he sees her most days of the week, except those weekends when he has to work on a case.

The more pieces of her life she gives him, the more he wants. He loves the feeling of creating a life with someone, with _two_ someones. He and Willow are finally in a good place where they lean on one another, support one another. He loves Jaxon and the way he keeps them on their toes - eight months is a fun age where he’s learning something new everyday, discovering he world around him, trying out new skills and getting closer and closer to saying real words by the minute. It kind of blows his mind to think of how little he was when Chase first met him, how much he’s grown and learned since then. He has a little personality now - goofy and fearless and strong-willed, like his mom. The only thing Chase loves more than spending time with him is spending time with both of them.

Life feels good. Stable. Happy.

He should know by now that in Port Charles, times like this don’t last very long.

He has the day off, and he decided to keep Jaxon at his place today, just for a change of scenery. Over the last few months, he’s found himself accumulating items that Jaxon might need if he’s over, whether by way of Willow accidently leaving them behind or Chase buying them to have on hand, just in case. Either way, he’s perfectly equipped to handle him for a day while Willow finishes out her last few days before Spring Break.

He’s sitting on the floor, trying his best to get Jaxon to eat some lunch - a bit late, he’ll admit - as he cruises around the coffee table (Chase has a feeling that his crawling days are numbered), when there’s a knock at the door.

“Chase, It’s Michael.”

Chase furrows his brow, wondering what Michael’s doing out of the office in the middle of the day. CEO privileges, he muses. He makes sure Jaxon’s stable against the coffee table and quickly opens the door, ushering Michael inside. “Hey, Michael,” he greets. Based on the look on his friend’s face, Chase concludes that this is not just a social call. “Is everything okay?”

He watches intently as Michael crouches down on the floor, greets Jaxon with an attempt at a high-five. (A new trick Chase taught him just the other day; it’s pretty cool how quickly his little mind soaks things up.) Michael takes a eat on his sofa, takes a deep breath. “I think Kristina’s in trouble.”

Chase immediately goes into detective mode, picking Jaxon up off the floor so he can focus on their conversation. “What kind of trouble?”

“She’s joined some new organization in town,” Michael sighs. “Kristina, she’s been kind of lost for a while, trying to figure out what to do with her life, and I guess she thinks whoever this Shiloh guy is has the answers.”

 _Shiloh_.

Chase feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He wishes he could brush it off as coincidence, but his gut is telling him that this is all too real. Michael’s description sounds all too similar to the way Willow described her parents - searching for answers, and for someone to provide them - and it’s not out of the realm of possibility that Shiloh may have moved on from Beecher’s Corners, attempting to extend his reach, but why Port Charles? And if he really is here, how long has he been here? How much does he know?

“Wait a minute,” Chase interrupts, his vision hazy with disbelief. “Did you just say Shiloh? As in… as in Dawn of Day?”

Michael nods, rolling his eyes. “Apparently this guy is some sort of teacher of enlightenment, or something. It sounds like a bunch of psychobabble bullshit to me.” He winces, glancing at Jaxon apologetically. Yeah, Chase thinks distractedly, they should probably watch their language around him, now that he’s about to start talking. “But Kristina is just eating it up, and there are just a lot of things about these people that don’t seem right to me.” Michael furrows his brow, registering the tone of Chase’s previous comment. “You’ve heard of him before?”

“I, uh… I knew Dawn of Day was a fixture in Beecher’s Corners,” Chase says cautiously, unwilling to tell Michael just how well he knows this guy, both for the sake of Willow’s privacy and Michael’s sanity. “I didn’t know they’d made their way to Port Charles.”

“Yeah, I guess this guy set up shop around here back in December,” Michael tells him. Chase’s blood runs cold. _December_? He’s been here for _three months_ , and Willow has no idea? He tries to keep his expression as neutral as possible, but his mind is racing as Michael continues. “Kristina had a rough time around the holidays, and I guess this… group… they’ve helped her, or so she thinks. But it doesn’t seem legit to me, Chase. It almost seems like a cult. She’s willing to cut people out of her life if they don’t support DOD.”

“Sounds about right,” Chase mutters. He can’t believe this bastard has been lurking around Port Charles for _months_ , and Willow has no idea how close he is. What if he knows about Jaxon, and he’s just waiting for the perfect time to strike? If he thinks he’s seen her panicked before, this is going to send her straight into a tailspin.

“I don’t know if he’s doing anything illegal,” Michael says doubtfully. He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s no law against being a scumbag. But I figured I would bring you in the loop anyway, see if there’s any way you can maybe run a background check on this guy, have the PCPD keep an eye out for him.”

Chase takes a seat in the Chair across from Michael and sets Jaxon down on the floor in front of him as he begins to fuss and wiggle. Jaxon immediately pulls himself to stand against the coffee table, and Chase pulls his plate in front of him so he can continue eating his macaroni and cheese. “Trust me. I’m already on it.”

Michael nods. “Thanks man. I appreciate it.”

Jaxon squawks in protest, and Chase rolls his eyes. “Okay, okay,” he chuckles. “It’s not like you haven’t had my attention all day long, squirt.”

Michael studies Jaxon, smiling, as the little boy cruises his way over to him, babbling up a storm. “He’s growing so fast,” he comments.

“Yeah, right?” Chase grins down at the little boy as he bangs his tiny hand onto the table, leaving a handprint of cheese residue. “It’s crazy, how fast they change.” He looks up at his friend, notices the tinge of sadness in his eyes. “You can miss Jonah and still be happy, you know.”

Michael nods. “I know. Some days it hits me harder than others. Some days, I see kids like Jaxon and it doesn’t phase me. And some days, I see kids like Jaxon and all I can think is that Jonah would be doing that now. And no matter how hard I try, it brings me back to Nelle and the part she played in all this.”

Chase clears his throat, contemplating whether now is a good time to clear the air about his feelings for Willow. He checks his watch, hears footsteps in the hall. Willow’s back. His concerns will have to wait for another time.

He’s got bigger concerns now.

“Don’t mention anything about DOD to Willow,” Chase says hurriedly. “I’ll do what I can to help you protect Kristina.”

Michael furrows his brow, opens his mouth like he wants to ask questions, but the lock clicks in the door and he just nods instead.

Willow steps through the door, and Chase kind of loves how she doesn’t hesitate at all to let herself into his apartment. The idea that she feels at home here makes his heart stutter in his chest a little bit. He can’t help but smile. “Hey, you.” He swings Jaxon into his arms, who squeals in delight, and makes his way over to her. He leans down to kiss her. “How was your day?”

She sighs. “Better now that I’m here with you two.” She makes a face at Jaxon, who reaches out for her happily, and pulls him into her arms. She blows a raspberry against his cheek, and he giggles. Her eyes settle on their guest, and she smiles. “Hey, Michael.”

“Hey,” Michael nods.

Jaxon smushes his hand into her cheek, and she winces, wiping cheese residue off her face. “I can tell you’ve spent a day with the boys,” she laughs. “You’re a mess.”

“He’s been cruising all over the place,” Chase tells her, moving to grab Jaxon’s plate from the coffee table and setting it on the kitchen counter. “I bet you he’s walking by April.”

“Don’t wish that on me,” Willow laughs, setting Jaxon down on the floor to play as he begins to whine. “Or yourself, for that matter.”

“I, uh…” Michael stands up, gesturing toward the door. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Thanks for coming by,” Chase says, and he doesn’t miss the unreadable expression on his friend’s face as he exits. They’ve got to hash this out at some point, but it’ll have to wait for now. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, man.”

Willow says goodbye and locks the door behind him, then joins Chase in the kitchen as Jaxon plays happily on the living room floor. “What’s going on?” she asks.

Chase clears his throat, furrows his brow. He doesn’t want to meet her eyes, because he’s not sure he can hide the truth from her if he does. He busies himself washing dishes in the sink, attempting to avoid suspicion. “What do you mean?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, quirks her brow. She leans against the counter next to the sink. “You know, for a detective, your poker face could really use some work.”

He needs to tell her. He knows he does. But they’ve lived in ignorant bliss of Shiloh’s presence in Port Charles for months now, and things are finally beginning to settle down for them. She’s already stressed with work lately, worrying about her job security, and she’s just beginning to really, truly feel safe here. With him. He doesn’t want to ruin it. At least, not until he absolutely has to.

He’ll tell her. Just not right now.

“Michael is worried about Kristina, and wants me to look into a few things,” he explains. “I don’t think it’s anything to be too concerned about.”

She tilts her head, her eyes filled with concern now. “Is Kristina okay? What’s wrong?”

And there goes the guilt again, bubbling in his stomach. “She’s okay,” he assures her. “It’s nothing serious, at least not yet. I can’t really say any more than that.”

She rolls her eyes, bumps her hip against his playfully. “What, you still can’t trust me with police business?”

He returns her hip bump, chuckling, and glares at her teasingly. “You’re not as innocent as you want me to believe you are. You and Lulu gossip like old ladies.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Like you and Michael, you mean?”

He prides himself on being someone who thinks meticulously before he acts. He considers every possible outcome, every possible angle, every possible alternative. However, he’ll admit that in this particular instance, he acts on impulse and lifts his hand out of the sink to flick water at her face.

Her jaw drops indignantly. A slow, mischievous grin spreads across her cheeks. “Oh, you asked for it.”

What follows is a mess of bubbles and water and at one point, she soaks his shirt with the water sprayer, to which he responds by forcing her into a hug that soaks her clothes as well. She’s laughing and he’s laughing and she’s pulling him closer and he’s kissing the bubbles off her lips and Jaxon’s crawled his way into the kitchen, splashing happily in what’s now a large puddle on his kitchen floor, and this. _This_ is what he wants their life to be. Not fear and anxiety and uncertainty, but happiness and laughter and… love.

He’s going to have to tell her the truth eventually. But if keeping it from her will keep her laughing, just for a little while longer, he’s going to keep it to himself while he gathers information about what Shiloh’s doing here, and how he can bring him down.

He won’t let him anywhere near Willow, or Jaxon. He won’t let this bastard ruin this wonderful little life they’re building. He’ll make sure of it.

… … …

She doesn’t normally like to stay at school after hours if she doesn’t have to. She finds it a bit creepy when everyone’s gone, and it’s just better for her sanity if she doesn’t linger too long. But today was the last day before Spring Break, and with all the excitement, she didn’t get to finish everything she needed to. She wants to be able to enjoy a full week off with Jaxon, and Chase, and she won’t be able to if she knows she’s left things unfinished at work.

Chase worked an early morning shift today and got off early, so he picked up Jaxon from Lulu’s house and took him back to her place. She kind of loves the new little routine they’ve settled into, and she has to admit that she’s a little surprised by how willingly he jumps into the role of caretaker for her son. She never expected that he would love spending time with Jaxon as much, maybe more, as he enjoys spending time with her. Watching them play together is quickly becoming one of her new favorite things, and just the thought of going home to the two of them makes her smile. She quickly texts him that she’s stuck at school and will be home as soon as she can.

She’s just packed up her bag to leave and turned to erase the board when she hears footsteps in the hallway. She furrows her brow, wondering who else stayed after work on the last day before Spring Break.

“Kali.”

Her stomach turns to ice, and every hair on her body stands on end. No. It can’t be. He’s not here. She’s hallucinating.

(She wishes repeating those phrases in her mind would make them true.)

“Kali Miller.” Shiloh’s voice drips with false kindness. “It’s so good to see you, after all this time.”

She finally turns to face him, and just the sight of him fills her stomach with equal parts anxiety and dread. The smirk on his face makes her want to scream. He looks just how she remembers him, unfortunately. She fights back the urge to fumble for her phone. The way he’s looking at her now, the predatory gleam in his eye… she refuses to give him the power to frighten her, and she refuses to give him the satisfaction of wavering.

She crosses her arms over her chest, stares him straight in the eyes. “My name is Willow Tait.”

Shiloh chuckles. “So I’ve heard,” he muses. “Port Charles really is a small town. You hear things about people.”

She feels a stab of panic in her chest, wondering if he knows about her son. But she can’t let on that she has something to hide, or he’ll know immediately. If she gives even an inkling of unease, he’ll find a way to manipulate the truth out of her, and she can’t let that happen.

“What are you doing here, Shiloh?” she demands.

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” He pushes his hands into his pockets, strolls around her classroom like he owns the place. “Dawn of Day has been building a presence here in Port Charles. We’ve got quite the following, already, in just three short months.”

 _Three months?_ He’s been here all this time, and she had no idea? Her throat begins to close in panic, and she quickly swallows it down. How could she not know? And how could it be possible that he’s been here so long and _doesn’t_ know about her son? _Their_ son? And if he knows, is he cornering her here as a distraction to take him away from her?

She swallows thickly, hoping her expression doesn’t betray the way her mind is racing. She speaks slowly, calmly. “If you’re here to reign me back in, Shiloh, I’m not interested.”

He sighs patronizingly. “Oh, Kali. It pains me to see the loss of progress in you. I always thought you were one of my most promising students, but now…” he shakes his head in mock sadness. “It’s a tragedy, really, to see someone with such potential stray so far from her path.”

And just like that, the panic fades, replaced with sudden and blinding rage. Now, she has to fight to keep her voice calm for an entirely different reason.

“My ‘path’ is no longer any of your concern,” she says lowly, her eyes flashing. “Now, either you leave, or I’ll call the police and report you for harassment.”

“Harassment.” He presses his hand to his chest, his eyes widening, feigning surprise. “I sense deep bitterness, deep distress in you, Kali. Perhaps we should explore that more.”

“Perhaps you should do what she asked you to do, before she has a witness to corroborate her story.”

Willow looks up to find Lulu standing in the doorway, Charlotte peeking out from behind her, and relief floods through her body. She was so focused on Shiloh, on her anger that she didn’t hear the footsteps in the hallway, but she’s never been so grateful for an unexpected visitor.

“Just go, Shiloh,” Willow says firmly. Lulu moves into the classroom, clutching Charlotte’s hand, and comes to stand next to Willow. She stands up just a little bit taller. “And don’t ever come near me again.”

He looks between the two of them, an amused smirk on his lips. “Very well. I have a class to teach, anyway.” He turns to Lulu. “You might benefit from some of our courses, Lulu. I would love to see you and Charlotte at the Dawn of Day house someday soon.”

“I don’t think so,” Lulu says decisively. “Goodbye, Shiloh.”

He shakes his head in mock disappointment, sighs heavily, and finally, mercifully, makes his way out the door.

Lulu almost immediately stalks to the door, closing it firmly behind him, and turns to face her friend. “That guy is such a creep. I didn’t know Dawn of Day did door-to-door soliciting. What did he say to you?”

Willow hears her talking, but she doesn’t process a single word. She struggles to regain her composure, feeling as though the room is closing in on her. She lowers herself to lean against her desk, her legs like jelly underneath her.

He’s here. He’s in Port Charles, and he knows where she is, knows her new name. He could find out everything.

“Jaxon,” she breathes out, fumbling for her phone as her hands shake violently.

“Jaxon is with Chase.” Lulu quickly crosses the room to support Willow as she sways uneasily. “Willow, what the hell is going on?” she demands, helping her around her desk to sit in her chair.

“Are you okay, Miss Tait?” Charlotte asks, concerned. “Do you need some water?”

Willow struggles to breathe. No, she is most certainly _not_ okay. All this time, she’s felt safe. She’s put down roots in this place; she’s become attached to people. To Lulu, to her students. _Chase_. She’s become so comfortable here that she almost forgot what (who) she was running from, and her carelessness is about to bite her in the ass.

She’s not safe here anymore.

She can’t stay here.

She takes a deep breath, forces a smile. “Thank you, Charlotte, but I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not okay.” Lulu narrows her eyes. “What did Shiloh say to scare you so badly?”

Willow inhales shakily. She’s so overwhelmed that all she wants to do is cry. She squeezes her eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. “I just need to see Jaxon.”

“Willow.” Lulu takes her by the shoulders, forcing her friend to meet her gaze. “If there’s something I need to know about Shiloh, you need to tell me _now_.”

Willow swallows down her panic, her tears. She closes her eyes again, takes a few deep breath to steady herself. She doesn’t know how she made it this far without Lulu knowing the truth, but she supposes there’s no hiding it anymore.

“Shiloh wasn’t advertising for DOD,” she admits quietly. “He was trying to convince me to come back.”

“Come back?” Lulu furrows her brow in confusion. “You were part of Dawn of Day?”

Willow nods. “In Beecher’s Corners,” she says, her voice wavering. “Until late last year. He’s the one who… he’s…”

Lulu’s eyes widen in realization. “He’s the one who…” Her eyes cut to Charlotte, who is watching with wide eyes, and she clears her throat. “He’s the one who… who hurt you?”

Willow nods, her shoulders sagging in defeat, tears spilling down her cheeks. “He’s here, Lulu.”

Lulu kneels in front of her friend, takes her hand, squeezes tightly. “He can’t hurt you anymore,” she insists quietly, firmly. “Not here.”

“You don’t understand,” Willow cries desperately. “He’s… what if he knows? What if he tries to take Jaxon from me?”

“What? Why would he…” Lulu presses her lips together, concern causing her brows to knit together. “Willow. Is Shiloh Jaxon’s father?”

Without her consent, a sob escapes her lips, and the tears come faster now. “He’s here. He’s here, and he knows who I am. I can’t… I can’t stay here anymore.”

Lulu nods. “Okay,” she says, squeezing her hand comfortingly before rising to stand. “Okay. Come on, we’ll take you home.”

“No, you don’t understand!” Willow protests, her voice rising in panic. She stands, frantically begins to gather her things from her desk. “I can’t stay in Port Charles, Lulu. I have to take Jaxon away from here.”

“Wait a minute. Willow, stop,” Lulu demands, and Willow leans forward, resting her palms on her desk, unwilling to meet her friend’s eyes. “You can’t just leave. You have people here who care about you, and about Jaxon. We can protect you.”

“I don’t want anyone to have to protect me,” she cries, her tears streaming freely now. “I don’t want anyone else to be burdened by Shiloh’s manipulation. I can’t subject you all to a man like that.”

“You and Jaxon are safer here in Port Charles than you are anywhere else in the world,” Lulu protests.

“You’re not listening to me, Lulu!” Willow slings her bag over her shoulder. “Shiloh is _here_ , and he knows my name. It’s only a matter of time before he finds out about Jaxon!”

“Okay. Okay.” Lulu pulls her in for a hug, and Willow holds on tight, grateful for something to bring her back down to earth. “Let’s take this one step at a time, okay? First things first, we need to get you home, and we need to tell Chase what’s going on. We can help you decide what to do from there.”

Lulu’s tone leaves no room for discussion, and Willow closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. She nods. In this moment, what she really needs is to hold her baby; to know that he’s safe, that he’s still here with her. Despite Lulu’s protests and what she imagines will be a huge fight from Chase, she has to leave. Every instinct in her body is telling her to run.

She has to keep her son safe. Even if she has to hurt the people she loves to do it.

… … …


	8. this is when the feeling sinks in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "come back... be here" by taylor swift.
> 
> { I own nothing }  
> & any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show & is credited to the writers. :-)

… … …

He’s decided, over the last few hours, that Willow is a superhero.

His goal for the day was to provide his girl with all the ingredients for a relaxing Spring Break - a clean apartment, a happy baby, a relaxing bath, and a glass of wine. After his early morning shift at work, he swung by Lulu’s to pick up Jaxon and bring him back to Willow’s place, so he could start his preparations. Unfortunately, entertaining a very curious, very mobile nine-month-old and checking items off his to-do list at the same time turns out to be a tall order. He was almost grateful when she texted to say she was stuck at school, because he needed the extra time to finish cleaning and complete his preparations. And all the while, he wonders how the hell she handles all of this on her own. Like, ever. The only logical answer is that she’s an actual superhero.

As such, he’s determined to give her an opportunity to relax this weekend. She’s been looking forward to Spring Break for months, and he wants to start it off on the best note possible for her. And okay, maybe it’s a little bit selfish, too. He’s been working so much overtime lately that he has the next four days off of work, and he wants to spend as much time as possible with her and with Jaxon. He figures the more he gets done for her now, the more time they’ll be able to spend together, relaxing, without the stress of their other responsibilities.

He’s just finishing up the dishes from lunch and is about ready to pour the wine when the front door bursts open and makes him reach reflexively for his belt where his gun would be, if he were on duty. He relaxes when he sees that it’s Willow, but only for a split second, because something is very obviously wrong.

“Jaxon,” she breathes, picking him up off the living room floor and holding him tightly to her.

He crosses into the living room and the first thing he notices is that she’s shaking. Her eyes are wet, her cheeks stained with tear tracks, and her body is vibrating with tension. “Willow, you’re shaking.” He pulls her close to him. “What the hell happened?”

“Shiloh happened,” says Lulu. He was so focused on Willow that he didn’t even notice her, nor Charlotte, following behind. She closes the door behind them and deadbolts the door. “He’s here, in Port Charles, and he cornered Willow at school this afternoon.”

His blood runs cold. “What?” He takes her by the shoulders, his eyes wide. “What did he do?”

She lets out a sob, shaking her head, and Chase pulls her into his arms. Jaxon begins to whimper, and Chase runs his hand down the little boy’s back comfortingly. “Lulu,” he says quietly.

“She didn’t tell me much,” Lulu sighs. “But he knows where she is. He knows where she works, what her new name is. She’s panicking that he’s going to find Jaxon next.”

Chase closes his eyes. This is what he was afraid of. And now, he feels like the worst person in the world, because he should have told her. He should have warned her that Shiloh was in town, so she wouldn’t have been completely blindsided by his arrival. But then, he knew this would be her reaction: she’s going into panic mode, and she’s going to try to run. He can feel it in the way her entire body is tensed like a rubber band, ready to snap.

He takes a deep breath, moving away from her ever so slightly. He meets Charlotte’s eyes across the room, who looks sad and confused and even a little bit frightened. He smiles reassuringly. “Charlotte,” he calls gently, “will you take Jaxon into his room and play with him for a little bit?”

“No,” Willow cries, almost hysterically. She crushes Jaxon closer to her, and the little boy whimpers again. “I need to hold him. I need…”

“Willow,” Chase says softly, and she finally meets his eyes. His heart absolutely breaks in his chest, because she looks so overwhelmed, so frightened, so frantic that he doesn’t know if anything he says or does will make it better. But he knows where they need to start. “We need to talk about this, and you need to take a moment to calm down. You’re scaring him.”

She pulls Jaxon away from her chest and studies his face. She sighs, kisses his forehead, and he watches helplessly as a tear runs down her own cheek. She reluctantly allows Chase to pull him from her arms, and he hands Jaxon off to Charlotte, who makes a silly face at him and happily takes him into the next room. She perceptively shuts the door behind her.

Willow promptly collapses onto the sofa, buries her head in her hands, and Chase follows. “Okay.” He pulls her into his arms again, and Lulu takes a seat in the chair across from them. “First things first.” He cups her cheeks in his hands, searching her eyes. “Did he hurt you?”

She shakes her head, sniffling, wiping the tears from her face. “No,” she whispers.

“Maybe not physically,” Lulu interjects, narrowing her eyes at her friend. “But he very clearly knows how to use his words to hit her where it hurts.”

Willow sighs, looking up at Chase. He brushes her hair away from her face, tucks it behind her ear, so he can see her face clearly. “He didn’t even really say anything, honestly,” she clarifies. “He mostly just patronized me, tried to tell me I needed to come back to DOD. It wasn’t anything he said or did that freaked me out,” she admits. “It’s the fact that he’s _here_. He’s been here since December. How did we not know?”

Chase swallows, meeting her eyes apologetically. “Michael told me the other day that Kristina is involved with DOD,” he admits. “That’s why he came over, to ask me to look into Shiloh, see if there was anything I could do. I was going to tell you,” he insists. “But I figured there was no way he would figure you out anytime soon. I didn’t want you to panic.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, a lot of good that did,” she snaps. “How could you not tell me he was in town? I could have been halfway across the country by now.”

He closes his eyes. He knew it. This is what he was afraid of, what he’s been dreading for the last two days. “Willow,” he says carefully. “I know you feel like the best way to protect Jaxon is to run. I get it. But you’re safe here. I know that doesn’t feel true anymore, but it is, Willow. You have a whole army of people behind you who will make sure Shiloh never gets anywhere near your son.”

“You can’t guarantee that,” she says, quietly, sadly. She picks at her cuticles, avoiding his gaze. “And I won’t subject all of you to Shiloh’s constant manipulation. The only way to keep Jaxon safe and protect all of you from him is to leave.”

“Where would you even go?” he wonders, struggling to keep his frustration in check. “How long are you going to run, Willow?”

“The rest of my life, if I have to,” she snaps.

“And what kind of life is that for Jaxon?” he asks seriously. “What, every time you see a shadow, you’re going to completely uproot his life? This is your home, Willow. This is Jaxon’s home. You can’t let Shiloh take that away from you, and you have plenty of people around you who won’t let it happen.”

“it’s only a matter of time before Shiloh finds out about him,” Willow insists. Her tone is hollow, resigned, and he _hates_ it. She’s already given up before the fight’s even begun. “And as soon as he does, he’ll apply for custody, and he’ll get it. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he set me up to be deemed unfit, so he could have full custody and cut me out of the picture completely.” She meets Chase’s eyes, then, and it’s like she’s completely detached herself from all emotion, like she’s not even really looking at him, but through him. “I cannot lose my son to Shiloh.”

“You won’t,” Chase insists. He’s been trying to keep it together, trying to be strong for her, but he’s quickly losing his composure. “Please, Willow, don’t do this. Stay. Let us help you. We can come up with a way to bring Shiloh down before he ever even gets close to Jaxon.”

“You don’t know Shiloh.” She laughs humorlessly. “Even if he has broken the law, he always has someone ready to take the blame. He has his DOD followers so brainwashed that they’ll do anything to keep Shiloh in power, believing it’s for the good of the organization, for the good of others. There’s no way to pin him down, Chase. He always wins. _Always_.”

“I don’t believe that,” he says firmly. “He may have gotten away until now, but he’s never had to deal with me. I won’t let him get away this time.” He forces her to meet his eyes and takes both of her hands firmly in his. “I promise you that I will protect you. Both of you. I will do whatever I have to do, use the full extent of the law to keep him as far away from you as possible.”

She squeezes his hands, forces a sad smile. “You have no idea how much I appreciate that you want to take care of us,” she says tearfully. “But there’s nothing you can do, Chase. There’s no way to avoid this.”

Lulu finally interjects. “At the very least, Willow, we need to tell Kristina the truth,” she insists. “If Shiloh is so bad that you feel like you need to run, then we need to get Kristina away from him. Now. You need to tell her your story.”

Chase squeezes her hands. “Listen to me. If we can turn Kristina, if we can bring in other people Shiloh has victimized, we can combine your testimonies to take him down,” he insists. “I don’t care if you believe he raped you or not. You were drugged, and you were unable to consent. And on top of that, you were coerced into believing it was what you wanted anyway.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “That’s three felonies, right there. We can do this, Willow. We can take Shiloh down for good.”

“I just…” She moves away from him, her eyes welling with tears again. “I just need some time, okay? Just give me some time.”

She heads straight for her bedroom and shuts the door, and he sighs. He wants nothing more than to chase after her, to convince her that she needs to stay. But he knows that emotions are high, and her head is spinning, and she needs time to process. She needs to come to the decision on her own, and he needs to give her the space to do it.

“This is exactly what I was afraid of,” he tells Lulu.

Lulu nods, sighs. “She was talking about leaving before we even left the school,” she reveals. “She doesn’t know any other way to cope, Chase. She doesn’t want to rely on anyone else, because she’s never been able to before.”

“I get all that,” he says. “We’ve been through all that before. But this guy… if Willow runs, if she doesn’t fight him, he’s just going to keep doing the same thing to other women. Kristina could be next. People like Shiloh thrive on intimidating others into doing exactly what they want. He may not have said anything in particular, but he got exactly what he wanted when he came to see Willow today. He scared her to the point where she’ll run, and she won’t tell anyone what he did to her, and he’ll get to keep doing what he does.”

“You’re telling this to the wrong person,” Lulu says, smiling sadly. “I know all of this, and logically, I think Willow does, too. But she’s thinking of Jaxon.”

“So am I,” Chase insists. “Because if she runs, Jaxon will never be safe. No matter how hard she tries, she’ll never be able to outrun the shadows, and Jaxon will suffer because of it. He needs a stable home, with people who love him and will protect him, no matter what.”

“People like you,” Lulu says softly.

“And you,” Chase agrees. “And Michael, and Elizabeth, and Finn, and Charlotte and Rocco. And think of all the resources we have with all of those people in our corner, by extension.” He runs his hands through his hair, scrubs at his eyes tiredly. “We have to convince her to stay, Lulu,” he says desperately, emotion rising in his throat. “I can’t lose her. I can’t lose either of them. Not like this.”

Lulu moves to sit next to him and pulls him into a hug. “I know, honey.” She runs her hand down his back soothingly. “I know.”

… … …

She feels like she’s living in a daze. It’s like an out of body experience; like she’s watching her own life play out before her, but it’s happening to someone else. She honestly can’t believe that everything she’s feared for the last year and a half is actually coming to light.

It’s like a bad dream that she desperately needs to wake up from.

She stands in the shower and lets the tears flow freely. She sobs out loud, hoping the rushing water will drown out her cries, and releases every ounce of emotion she’s kept inside for the last two years. She’s never really let herself feel it all: the anger and shame of what Shiloh did to her, the gripping fear and anxiety of leaving her old life behind, the uncertainty and instability of running from her past. She’s been so focused on the next step, always looking ahead, that she never truly allowed herself to look back and process it all.

When her fingers are pruned and the water runs cold, she pulls on her pajamas and buries herself under the covers. She’s not sure how long she lays in bed, staring out her window, as tears continue to stream down her face. There’s too much to think about here, too much to process for her to even begin to make sense of it all. Shiloh’s here, in Port Charles. He knows her name, he knows where she works, and he’s been lurking in the shadows for more than half the time she’s lived here. She has to believe that it’s only a matter of time before he finds out about Jaxon, before he uses his wide network of resources to take him away from her. She doesn’t see any alternative but to run.

Maybe that’s why the tears won’t stop; because she’s already mourning the life she’ll have to leave behind. She had just begun to believe that she and Jaxon could have a future here. She’d allowed herself to become attached to people. She fell in love. And while she’s sure that their lives would go on without her, that they would eventually move on, she’s not sure she ever will.

And then, once the tears dry up and the panic subsides, the anger sets in.

She thinks of everything she’s given up because of Shiloh. She was right to leave DOD, and she doesn’t regret it for a second. But she had to give up any sense of safety and stability to do so. She gave her up identity and had to create an entirely new life for herself. And Chase is right; if she continues to run, she’ll never be able to find any semblance of home. Not like she has here.

And try as she might to convince herself otherwise, Port Charles is home.

If she leaves now, if she takes Jaxon and runs, she has no idea where she would go. Further away than a few towns over, that’s for sure. Tennessee? Florida? Montana? California? Where could she ever go that would be far enough away to keep the shadows at bay? She’d have to change her name, and probably Jaxon’s name, too. She’d never trust herself enough to get close to anyone again, and she would never trust anyone around her son.

What kind of life would that be? Not just for her, but for Jaxon? Could she really be okay with raising her son that way?

No. No, she couldn’t.

She decides to let anger, not fear, control her decision making for once. She decides that if Shiloh wants a fight, he’s going to get a fight, and she won’t go down easy. She’ll do whatever she has to do to keep her son safe from him, but taking him away from people who love him is not the answer. Not when those people are so obviously willing to do whatever it takes to help her keep him safe. She wants her son to see her example and know that fear doesn’t have to control him.

Shiloh doesn’t get to have the power over her. Not now, not ever.

She emerges from her bedroom hours later. The living room is dark, lit only by a single lamp and the light from the television. Jaxon is asleep on the sofa, his little face so quiet and peaceful, and Chase is sitting next to him, staring unseeingly at the television. He looks exhausted and anxious and sad, and he almost doesn’t see her as she approaches. When he looks up at her, when their eyes meet, she allows herself to smile, just a little bit. His entire body sags in relief, and he stands pulling her firmly into his arms. He hugs her tighter than he ever has, and she holds on just as tightly.

They sit down together on the sofa, and Willow runs her hand over Jaxon’s back. She feels a rush of love for her little boy, and a fierce urge to keep him safe. To surround him with a barricade of love and protection and allow him to finally have a home. She turns back to Chase, leans her head against his shoulder, and he wraps his arm tightly around her, pulls her legs into his lap. “How are you feeling?” he asks, cautiously, hesitantly.

She inhales deeply, and for the first time in hours, she feels like she can breathe. She nods. “I want to stay,” she says firmly. “I won’t let Shiloh have the power. Not this time. I want to fight.”

Chase studies her face, the corner of his lips quirked up into a hopeful, relieved grin. “You won’t be alone,” he assures her, resting his forehead against hers. “I promise.”

And as he kisses her, she decides she’s not giving this up, ever. Not for anything or anyone, especially not Shiloh.

Game on, bastard.

… … …

As it turns out, taking back control of her own life is easier said than done.

In the days that follow, she’s terrified to leave her apartment. She essentially refuses, fearful that she’ll run into Shiloh again, which is a direct contrast to her firm insistence that she won’t let him control her life anymore. But honestly, he’s going to pick his battles, because she’s still here, and that’s more than he thought he might get.

So he does his best to help her relax. He does her grocery shopping for her, cooks her meals, entertains Jaxon, finds mindless television for them to watch. They lay around on the sofa, take naps when Jaxon does, play board games. And by Monday afternoon, he feels like he’s done a pretty great job of keeping her distracted. But Tuesday is his last day off before he goes back to work, and as much as he understands her trepidation, he refuses to let her waste away the rest of her Spring Break hiding away in her apartment.

“Where do we even start?” Willow asks, pushing Jaxon’s stroller - which he never made it into, since he refused to leave Chase’s arms once he made it out of his car seat - through the gates of the Port Charles Zoo.

Chase shrugs, chuckling. “I’ve never been here before either, remember?” He falls back to walk beside her, bumping his hip against hers teasingly. “Let’s just wing it. Jax won’t know the difference.”

She smiles, and it’s still a little bit forced, but at least she’s making an effort. It was easier than he thought it might be, getting her out of the house, and while he knows she was nervous to begin with, she relaxes more and more by the minute. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, presses his lips to her temple. She’s here, and she’s fighting, and that’s what matters right now.

She takes a deep breath, smiles at her son. “What does a monkey say, Jax?”

Jaxon does his best imitation of a monkey as they approach the monkey exhibit, and the sound of Willow’s laugh makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Look, bud!” He points toward two monkeys sharing a banana across the exhibit, and he watches as Jaxon’s little face lights up, and he leans toward the fence, trying to get a better look.

He takes in every moment of their afternoon together, just the three of them. He etches Jaxon’s smiles and giggles into his memory, and he savors every eye roll or indignant jaw drop he gets from Willow when he teases her. Because he could have missed this. She had one foot out the door, and he was _this close_ to never having either of them in his life again. And yet, here they are. And he decides that he’s not going to take a single moment of it for granted.

“Thank you,” she says later, as Jaxon naps in his stroller and they share a milkshake from a concession stand. Cookies ‘n’ cream, of course. She absently reaches up, uses her thumb to swipe a drop of ice cream from the corner of his mouth, and he catches her hand in his, threads their fingers together. “Thank you for forcing me to do this today. It was…” She lets out a long breath, looks up to meet his eyes. “It was exactly what I needed.”

Chase nods. He kisses the back of her hand. “Listen,” he begins. “I know no matter how hard I try, I can’t understand what you’re feeling, because I haven’t been through what you have. But when the fear starts to take over, or when the panic sets in… just promise me you won’t shut me out, okay?”

She nods. “I promise that I’ll do my best,” she agrees. “I’m going to try not to get stuck in my own head. I made the decision to stay, and to fight, and I don’t want to spend my time hiding or being afraid. I want to enjoy my life with you.” She pulls her hand from his, snakes her arms around his neck to pull him closer. “You’ve been so incredible through all of this. You’ve been… my rock. But I know it can’t be easy for you, either.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not important.”

“It _is_ important,” she insists, holding his gaze. “It’s important to me. The last thing I want is for you to sacrifice your own wellbeing for the sake of mine. I don’t expect you to fix things for me, Chase. When I said I want to fight, I didn’t mean that I want to stand behind you while you do it for me. So don’t feel like you need to be the one to protect me, or to save the day. We’re in this together, for as long as you want to be. Okay?”

He’s not sure he likes the way that last part sounded - like she’s trying to give him an out, or something - but he’ll let it slide, for now. The rest of it, he can get on board with. “Yes, ma’am,” he grins.

“And I don’t want you to call me every hour while you’re at work tomorrow,” she adds, narrowing her eyes at him teasingly. “Jaxon and I will be fine on our own, I promise.”

He rolls his eyes. “You can tell me not to worry all you want, but I’m still going to do it,” he insists. “I can’t turn it off. You mean too much to me. There’s no going back now.”

There’s butterflies in his stomach as he says it, and he momentarily fears that he’s said too much. But the little smile that she gives him, the way she kisses him slowly, sweetly, says that even if she’s not quite where he is yet, she’s getting there. And that’s all he could ever ask for.

… … …

Her first day back to work after Spring Break is tough. It’s harder than she thought it would be, walking back into the classroom when the last thing she remembers is her showdown with Shiloh. She finds herself looking over her shoulder, checking around corners, clutching her phone in her hand just in case he blindsides her again. But Chase is there, and he keeps her company until her students arrive and she’s not alone. And with every passing day, she adjusts to her new normal: living her life with sharper awareness, but not fear.

It’s easy, anyway, to be distracted from her current situation with the drama that seems to constantly follow her at work. She honestly never anticipated that her greatest challenge being a teacher wouldn’t involve her students, but their parents. She finds that parents are less accepting of her disciplining their children, even when it’s warranted and necessary. If she had a dollar for every time she had a parent tell her she’s not being fair to their child, or worse, that she’s _targeting_ their child, she’d probably be able to quit her job.

But what she also didn’t expect is the lack of support from her administration. It seems that when parents don’t get the response they want from her, they go straight to the top. And rather than stand behind her as a teacher, Principal Schultz continues to bow to parents’ requests. She constantly feels like she’s walking a tightrope between what she knows is right, what she feels like she’s called to do, and what’s going to allow her to keep her job.

“I’m sure you know why I’ve called this meeting this afternoon, Willow,” Principal Schultz says as she takes a seat across from his desk.

“I have an idea,” she responds. “What I don’t understand is why this issue keeps coming up.”

Principal Schultz sighs, and she feels like a child being scolded. “Miss Tait, I’m sure that you feel that you’re doing what you need to do for your classroom.”

“Yes,” Willow agrees. “That’s exactly how I feel. I would appreciate your support in that endeavor.”

“Yes, well.” Schultz clears his throat. “Unfortunately, what you feel you need to do for your classroom is not necessarily in the best interest of each student, nor is it in the best interest of this school.”

She just blinks at him for a second, because she’s not sure that even makes sense. Frankly, she’s a little bit insulted that he seems to think she doesn’t care about each individual student or have their best interests at heart. If she didn’t care about the students, why would she have gone into teaching?

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying,” she admits.

“Miss Tait,” Schultz begins, folding his hands neatly, resting his elbows on his desk. “As I know you’re aware, several of the parents in your classroom believe that their children are being treated unfairly, even targeted by you. These parents, I might remind you, are donors to this school, and their donations are pivotal to our ability to provide a quality education for our students.”

“So what you’re saying,” she begins, attempting to control her temper, “is that I should go against my better judgment and allow certain students to be treated differently, simply because their parents give money to the school?”

“What I’m saying, Miss Tait, is that I would be more careful about how you discipline your students,” Schultz replies firmly. “Re-evaluate your own biases and be sure that you are not repeatedly targeting the same students.”

“With all due respect, Principal Schultz, if I am continuously having to discipline the same students, it’s because they continue to misbehave in my classroom, not because I have some sort of vendetta against them.”

“Nevertheless.” Schultz begins to organize papers on his desk. “I hope you will take some time to think over our conversation, Miss Tait, and I sincerely hope we don’t have to repeat it at a later date. Have a wonderful day.”

It’s not hard to tell that she’s been dismissed, and she clenches her fists as she makes her way back to her classroom, narrowly resisting the urge to scream. If she’s not allowed to discipline her students to keep order to her classroom, how is she supposed to function in a position of authority? She doesn’t see a way to adjust her methods without also punishing the students who don’t deserve it, and that doesn’t feel right.

She loves her job. She loves her students. But at this point, she’s beginning to question if PC Elementary is the right place for her. She won’t change her mind, and those specific problem students clearly won’t change their behavior. Something’s gotta give, and she has a gut feeling that it’s going to be her job.

… … …

Despite Willow’s insistence that she wants to fight, that she won’t let Shiloh intimidate her, she’s also not keen on him cornering her alone. He doesn’t blame her one bit, and as much as he’s trying to help her assert her independence, he wants her to feel safe, and he doesn’t want Shiloh anywhere near her.

So this is their new normal. Chase drops her off at work in the morning, stays in her classroom until the first bell rings, and then comes back in the afternoon to pick her up as soon as her students are gone. She’s never, ever completely alone in her classroom. It’s a short-term fix, and it won’t always work, he knows, but it makes him feel a whole lot better, and he knows it’s a relief for her, too.

She’s in a different mindset since Spring Break, he can tell. She’s more logical, more calculated, more clear-headed. She’s determined to find a way to use Shiloh’s own bravado against him, to find a way to keep him away from Jaxon for good. And the week off from work certainly didn’t hurt. They were able to relax, to talk some things through, to refocus their attention on what matters. Even this week, since going back to work, she’s been in a good mood every day when he’s picked her up from work.

Not today, though. She’s not facing him when he enters the classroom, but he can tell it’s been a rough one by the set of her shoulders. He knocks on the door so he doesn’t startle her, and she turns to face him, forces a smile. “Hey,” she greets.

“Hey, you.” He crosses the room to where she stands by the chalkboard, leans in to kiss her. “Everything okay?”

She exhales. “Not really,” she admits.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she repeats, laughing humorlessly. “But I feel like I should, since I almost got fired today.”

“You _what_?” Chase asks in disbelief. “What happened?”

“Just… entitled parents feeling like their entitled children should be given special treatment.” Willow rolls her eyes. She leans back against her desk, crosses one ankle over the other, and Chase leans against the chalkboard across from her. “I have a couple of problem kids who repeatedly require discipline, and their parents don’t seem to understand why. They continue to cause the same problems, and so they continue to be punished in the classroom. They know the rules; all they have to do is follow them.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Chase agrees. “So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that apparently, these parents are big-time donors to the school,” Willow sighs. “I was basically told that if I don’t make more of an effort to accommodate their requests, I won’t be returning next year.”

“That’s bullshit,” Chase scoffs.

Willow shrugs. “I agree, but clearly Principal Schultz is not messing around. I have to be on my best behavior for the rest of the year if I want to keep my job.” She sighs. “Which will be hard to do, since I apparently don’t have any clue what the right decisions are here.”

Chase pulls her close, leans in to kiss her. “I have faith in you,” he assures her. She drapes her arms over his shoulders, links her fingers together behind his head. “You’ll make the right decisions, and you’ll be fair and professional, like you always are. The important thing is to make sure that you can leave here every day with your head held high, knowing you did the best you could.”

Willow smiles, opens her mouth to respond. She doesn’t get the chance.

“That’s very profound advice, Detective Chase. I may have to use that in some of my teachings.”

Shiloh.

Willow closes her eyes, and Chase feels her body tense with nerves. He steps in front of her desk and resists the urge to reach for the gun in his holster, reminding himself that technically, Shiloh hasn’t done anything wrong. At least not yet.

“I would strongly advise that you vacate the premises, Shiloh.” Chase sets his shoulders, his posture rigid. Willow settles her hand on his back in a show of solidarity. “I believe Miss Tait has asked you repeatedly to leave her alone.”

“I detect a lot of latent anger and hostility in your tone, Detective,” Shiloh says calmly. He pushes his hands into his pockets casually, wanders further into the room. “I could help you explore that, find ways to overcome it, if you’d like.”

Chase narrows his eyes. “What I’d like is for you to leave.”

Shiloh shakes his head, feigning disappointment. “Well, I came to see Miss Miller, so I’m not sure it really matters what you want from me.”

“Miss _Tait_ doesn’t want to see you, either,” Willow interjects firmly. “And if you don’t want to leave on your own, I’m sure Detective Chase would happily escort you off the premises.”

“You know, Kali -”

“ _Willow_.”

“I wish you could see what I see when I look at you,” Shiloh says, shaking his head. “I wish you would come by the Dawn of Day house sometime soon. Let us help you find your way back.”

“Go to hell,” Willow snaps, and Chase can’t help but smirk. He loves this side of her, angry and badass.

“I can understand you leaving the rest of the members. I know you never made a lot of friends in DOD,” he continues, unaffected. “But me? Kali… I really thought we had something special.”

Willow makes a move, then, and as much as he wants to let her wail on him, he would also have to arrest her for assault. So he puts out a hand to stop her, grabs her wrist, runs his thumb over the back of her hand to calm her. “I’m not going to ask you again, Shiloh,” he insists.

Shiloh holds his hands up in surrender, backs himself toward the door. “Shame we can’t talk this out like adults, Kali.” He smirks. “That’s okay. I have other ways to resolve conflicts, though you might not like them.”

“That sounds like a threat,” Chase growls.

“No threats,” Shiloh says innocently, raising his hands in surrender. “Just stating facts.”

Shiloh finally moves out of the room, and Chase follows, stands at the doorway until he’s rounded the corner down the hallway. Then he exhales and moves back to Willow, taking her hands in his. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it just…” She groans in frustration. “It just drives me insane that he can go anywhere he wants and say anything he likes and no one can _do something_ about it!” She runs her hands through her hair angrily.

“He’ll slip up eventually,” Chase reminds her. “He’s on my radar now. He can’t stay out of trouble for too much longer, trust me. I have a sneaking suspicion he’ll dig his own grave before we have to do anything to nudge him that way.”

“I wish I had the same confidence that you do,” Willow sighs.

He cups her cheeks in his hands, kisses her soundly. “We’re on the right side of this,” he says confidently, resting his forehead against hers as her hands come up to grip his wrists. “You and me, and everyone else who’s on our side. The good guys are going to win this one, okay?”

She exhales, nods, leans in to kiss him again. “Alright, Detective,” she sighs, gathering her bag from behind her desk and reaching for his hand. “Take me home to my boy, would you?”

He kisses the back of her hand. “My pleasure, Miss Tait.”

… … …

She’s been thinking a lot recently, for some reason, about all the reasons why she loves being with Chase. She’s never been one of those girls who needs a guy around to be happy, but she’ll admit that he’s a big part of why she’s so content with her life in Port Charles. And one of the things that she loves most about Chase is that no matter how stressed out or anxious or panicked she becomes, he can always, _always_ find a way to turn her day around and make her smile.

Take tonight, for example. After a week full of drama at work and worrying about Shiloh’s next move, he planned the most wonderful Friday night outing for them. After her favorite meal and a glass of wine at the Floating Rib, he took her to the new Port Charles roller skating rink, where he made a complete fool of himself just to make her laugh. He bought her an ice cream cone - cookies ‘n’ cream, of course - and they talked and kissed and just enjoyed the warmer spring weather. He’s always thinking of ways to take her mind off things, to remind her there’s still so many reasons to be happy in her life. She forgets about them sometimes, but he always, always helps her remember.

She wonders, now, as she lounges on his sofa with a glass of wine, if she comes even close to providing the same kind of support for him. She hasn’t had as many opportunities, since he seems to handle everything that comes their way with such calm confidence. She feels like the majority of their relationship has been just a series of Chase smoothing over Willow’s periodic bouts of panic. Starting with their first date, right here in this apartment. She can’t help but giggle to herself, remembering the way she chewed him up and spit him out.

“ _Oh, God, you’re thinking of me skating again, aren’t you?_ ” Chase smirks as he replenishes her glass. He takes his seat beside her and places the open bottle on the coffee table, sipping his own glass.

“ _No_ ,” she laughs. “ _And you’re not nearly as bad as you think, by the way_.”

“ _Yeah, but you’re better_.”

“ _I mean, duh_.” She giggles, picturing him sprawled out on the concrete, pouting as he holds his hand up for assistance. “ _No_ , I was thinking about our first date.” She pulls her legs up underneath her. “ _And how I freaked out on you and called this apartment your ‘lair’_.”

She feels her cheeks heat in residual embarrassment as his eyes sparkle in recognition. “ _I’d almost forgotten about that_ ,” he chuckles, turning his body to face her a little more, resting his arm on the back of the couch.

“ _Like… why did you continue to pursue me_?”

She’s joking. Mostly.

He shrugs, a sweet little smile on his lips. “ _I liked you_.”

The butterflies erupt in her stomach. “ _Even though I was crazy?_ ” She quirks her brow with a smirk.

He shrugs again. “ _You were right_ ,” he reminds her. “ _It was presumptuous of me to have you over that night_.”

She shakes her head at herself. “ _All you wanted to do was make me dinner_.” Knowing him now, and even remembering how that night eventually played out, she’s still a little embarrassed at the way she overreacted. It wasn’t unwarranted, considering her past experiences, but Chase is not Shiloh, and she’s so thankful that she let go of her fear and held onto Chase.

“ _Yeah, but you didn’t know that_ ,” he reasons, echoing her thoughts. “ _I should have told you what I had planned and let you decide if you were comfortable with it._ ”

“ _Honestly_ ,” she sighs, “ _no one had more walls up than I did._ ” She looks away from him, trying to formulate the words to get her point across. “ _I didn’t think that I could ever trust a guy again. Romantically, at least. Not after what happened with Shiloh_.” She smiles. “ _But little by little, I began trusting you_.”

“ _Because I wore you down,_ ” he jokes, smiling sheepishly.

“ _No_ ,” she smiles. “ _Because you were… patient. And persistent, and_ con _sistent, and open, and just… all-around wonderful_.”

He chuckles, his cheeks going pink. “ _I sound pretty awesome_ ,” he jokes.

“ _You are_ ,” she laughs, almost spitting out her wine in the process. “ _Case in point: no one makes me laugh like you do. I had no choice but to want to be around you._ ”

He hums, biting his bottom lip. He swallows thickly. “ _Okay, serious question_.” He shifts his body to face her completely.

“ _Okay_.” She tries to hide her smile, to school her expression into neutrality, but she knows she doesn’t succeed.

“ _Do you still consider this place my lair?_ ”

He’s trying to pass it off as a joke, but by this point, she knows him better than that. She’s struck, for some reason, in this moment, by just how much she feels for him. How safe she feels with him, how much she loves spending time with him. How she can’t imagine going a day without hearing his voice, without the sweet little kisses he leaves on her forehead, without the perfect way their hands fit together. She’s not sure how he’s gotten so far under her skin, but here, in this moment, she knows without a doubt that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

It doesn’t take her very long to formulate her response. “ _I think of it as… the place where you are, the place where I feel happy, and where I feel safe, because… I’m with you._ ”

He leans in to kiss her, and she feels the butterflies flutter in her stomach like they have all evening. She runs her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, holding him close to her. His fingers dig into her hip, and she feels her breath catch in her throat as his hand comes to rest at the side of her neck.

She’s thought about taking the next step with him, obviously, and they’ve had several conversations about it. He’s never once pressured her, or questioned her, and anytime things have gotten heated between them, he’s always been careful to make sure she’s comfortable. And while she’s so grateful that he’s been so understanding, so attentive and caring, she’s honestly sick of playing it safe. She’s falling in love with him - honestly, she might already be there - and she trusts him more than she ever thought would be possible again. She wants this. She wants to be as close to him as possible, in every possible way.

She’s not sure how long they’re completely lost in each other before he speaks.

“When do you need to go pick up Jaxon?” he murmurs between kisses, his voice thick and gravelly.

“I don’t,” she breathes out, pulling him closer to her.

He sits back a little bit, and she whines at the loss of contact, presses her forehead to his to keep him close. “What do you mean?” he asks, trying to catch his breath.

“Lulu’s keeping him for the night.” She smiles coyly.

His breath catches, and he closes his eyes. When he opens them again, they’re shining with sincerity. “God, Willow, I want you,” he breathes out. “ _Like I really, really want you_.” He swallows, searchers her eyes. “ _But only if you want me_.”

“ _Yes_ ,” she says quickly, without hesitation.

He takes a deep breath, digs his fingers into her bare skin at her hip, where her top has ridden up. She shivers. “ _Are you sure_?”

“Chase.” She tilts her head, smiles. “You are the most caring and patient man I’ve ever met. I trust you in ways I never thought I could.” She presses her forehead to his, closes her eyes. “I’m falling in love with you.” She kisses him again, whispers against his lips. “I’m sure.”

She’d wondered, many times, what it would be like to be with him. She’d gone through plenty of scenarios in her head, and she was always surprised by how, despite her lack of experience, her imagination could run completely wild. But the real thing is so beautiful, so incredible that it nearly brings tears to her eyes. He undresses her slowly, whispers perfect words against her skin. He holds her so delicately, and yet so surely, like he never wants to let her go. It’s even better than her wildest dreams. And as he holds her close afterward, draws circles on her bare hip with his fingertip, she knows that this is how it should feel. This is the way it’s supposed to be.

“ _I had no idea that it could feel like this_ ,” she tells him, as they lay entangled.

_I’m in love with you_ , is what she really wants to say.

… … …

He wakes up with Willow sleeping soundly in his arms, and he all but pinches himself to make sure it’s not a dream.

He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt so connected to another person in his life. He already knew there was something special between them, but last night… he’s convinced that they’re perfectly matched for one another in every possible way. He’s in awe of her; the way she trusted him so fully, opened herself up to him completely, despite her traumatic past experiences. She’s the most incredible woman he’s ever known.

And he’s in love with her.

He’s not sure when it happened, honestly. He’s been falling for a while, he knows that much. But somewhere along the way, something shifted and clicked into place, and now he can’t imagine his life without her in it. Her and Jaxon, the three of them together… that’s his future. Maybe he didn’t want to admit it before, didn’t want to get too attached in case she picked up and ran again, but now… now, there’s no going back. He’s in this for the long haul.

She’s facing away from him, her arms folded underneath his pillow as she lays on her stomach, but he can tell when she wakes up by the way her breathing changes. He presses gentle kisses across her shoulder blades, runs his fingertip from her shoulder down her spine until her Dawn of Day tattoo catches his eye. He runs his fingers over it, furrows his brow in disgust. He wishes he could ignore it, but the thought of that bastard with his hands on her… it makes his skin crawl.

“ _It doesn’t bother me anymore,_ ” she says quietly.

“ _It bothers me_ ,” he counters, running his thumb over the mark on her hip. She’s a stronger person than he is, to be able to move past something like this - a permanent reminder of her past trauma. “ _It’s like he branded you_.”

“ _He did_ ,” she agrees, pushing up onto her elbows and turning to face him. He forces his eyes away from the mark on her back and meets her eyes instead, skimming his hand up her back to rest on her cheek. He pushes her hair away from her face, his gaze fixed on her beautiful green eyes. “ _But now, it’s just a tattoo. I’m free_.”

He can’t think of anything else to say, so kisses her, pulls her closer, slips his hand behind her neck to hold her with him. She’s beautiful like this, with messy hair, creases on her face from the pillow, her makeup from last night smudged under her eyes. “How did you sleep?” he murmurs, running his thumb over her cheek.

She hums. “Better than I have in weeks,” she admits. She bites her lip with a coy smile. “If your goal was to distract me from the mess that is my life, you certainly succeeded.”

He chuckles. “I think my plan worked even better than I intended,” he teases, quirking his brow with a smirk.

She shoves at his chest, and her jaw drops playfully as he laughs. “Jerk.” She narrows her eyes, attempting to scowl, but she can’t hide the smile, and she’s so damn cute that his heart constricts in his chest.

“You don’t mean that.” He lays back against the pillows, hooks his arm around her neck to pull her against his chest.

She leans up to kiss him.” No, I suppose not,” she murmurs. She sighs happily, her face buried in his neck, and his lips fall to her forehead. “So, what’s your master plan for this morning, then?”

“No plan,” he says with a smirk. “If you’ll remember, I didn’t have anything past the wine planned last night, so…”

“Okay, I get it,” she groans, her cheeks warming adorably as he chuckles. “I seduced you. What do you want me to do, apologize?”

“Never,” he growls, kissing her firmly, rolling her underneath him. “And as for the plan today,” he murmurs, planting kisses all over her skin, relishing the way her breathing quickens, “I would strongly suggest that we don’t get out of bed for _at least_ another hour.”

She sighs in delight, her fingers squeezing the back of his neck in agreement. “If you insist,” she breathes out as his lips find hers, and the world fades away around them.

Yeah, he thinks, he could get used to mornings like this with her. It’s nice, being playful and carefree and not worrying about whatever the outside world has in store for them. He wants to keep her in this perfect little bubble for as long as possible, before they go back to face the music of reality.

… … …

If there’s one thing she’s learned about Harrison Chase in the short time she’s known him, it’s that he always, without fail, keeps his promises.

As the water runs over her body in his shower, over an hour later, she can feel every reminder of how he did just that.

She hasn’t felt the way she feels now… well, maybe ever. She’s almost giddy, remembering their night together, relishing in the new level of connection she feels to him. It’s a level that she never knew existed, something she never thought she’d ever feel. As usual, Chase is always finding ways to surprise her, to give her everything she never knew she wanted.

But despite how perfect everything suddenly seems, they still have some big discussions that need to be had. This relationship between them is clearly not a short-term thing, at least not in her mind. She can see him being part of her life for a very, very long time. But she needs to make sure that he’s on the same page, because it’s not just the two of them that she needs to think about.

She knows Jaxon loves Chase, and they’ve become pretty attached to one another over the course of the last few months. But Jaxon doesn’t just need a friend, or someone to babysit him when she’s not around. He needs a father figure. She knows that Chase loves spending time with her son, and she knows that he would do anything to protect Jaxon. What she needs to know is if all those things are because he loves Jaxon, or because he’s with her. She needs to know that she and Jaxon can rely on him, not just as her boyfriend, or whatever he might end up being to her, but as a constant in both of their lives.

She would understand if he didn’t want that. It would break her heart, but she would understand. And now that they’ve connected on this whole other level, she needs to make sure that he’s ready for what this relationship needs to be, before she lets herself get hurt.

She emerges from the bathroom wearing his t-shirt and not much else, and she bites her lip at the smirk on his lips. “Hello, beautiful,” he greets, pulling her by the hand so she’s sitting on the bed next to where he lays - as promised, right where she left him. As soon as she meets his eyes, his smirk shifts into a frown, and he furrows his brow in concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she assures him, smiling weakly. “I was just… thinking.”

He nods, presses his lips together. “That doesn’t sound good,” he comments.

“It’s not bad,” she hedges, and his fingers slip between hers to squeeze her hand. “I just… I know we talked a few months ago about the fact that this… relationship… it’s not a casual thing for either of us.” He nods, and she inhales shakily. “And as happy as I am that we’ve gotten closer since then, I don’t think just being serious about one another is enough anymore.”

He looks genuinely confused, and maybe even a little bit hurt. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“I mean…” she sighs, frustrated with herself, wishing she could articulate herself better. She doesn’t want there to be any confusion about this, because it’s very important. “I mean that it’s not just the two of us in this relationship, Chase.”

His face clears in understanding, and if she’s not mistaken, his face relaxes in relief. “You mean Jaxon.”

She nods. “And I know that you care about me, and you care about Jaxon as an extension of me,” she says carefully. “But it feels like we’re past the point where that’s enough.”

She scoots closer to him, holds his hand in both of hers, finds that it’s difficult for her to meet his eyes. “I know that we’re not at the point where we’re making real commitments yet, and that’s okay,” she reasons. “I’m not ready for that, either. But if we’re going to continue this relationship, I need to know that you don’t just see Jaxon as an extension of me. I need to know that you care about him, too.”

He tilts his head, furrowing his brow. “Of course I care about him, Willow.”

“Yes, but… he doesn’t just need a friend to play with him, Chase,” she sighs. “He needs someone who’s going to be there for him, who’s going to help him grow and learn and be someone he can count on.” He’s still confused, she can tell, and she groans, buries her face in her hands. “I’m not explaining this very well at all.”

“It’s okay,” he says gently, patiently. “Take your time.”

She takes a deep breath, meets his eyes again, formulates the words in her head. “I guess what I’m trying to ask is… do you care about Jaxon because you’re my boyfriend, because you know he’s important to me, or…”

She looks up to find him smiling, and she loses her train of thought. He seems to understand anyway. “I love that little boy,” he assures her. He leans forward, resting his free hand on her shoulder, his thumb running up the side of her neck tenderly. “And not just because he’s yours. I love watching him learn and grow, and I love that he knows who I am now. I want him to know that he can count on me to be there for him, no matter what.” His hand moves to her cheek and forces her gaze to meet his. “I love him, Willow, just like I love you.”

Her breath catches in her throat, and she searches his eyes, wondering if (hoping) she heard him right. _He loves her_. Her heart feels like it’s ten sizes too big, and she feels emotion rising in her throat, tries to swallow it down. “Are you sure?” she asks. “It’s a big commitment, Chase, loving us.”

He detangles his hand from hers, cradles her face in his hands, and his eyes bore into hers, shining with… with _love_. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says sincerely.

She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a kiss, tears pricking her eyes as she wonders how the hell she got so lucky, to have this man love her like this. “I love you, too,” she whispers against his lips, and he smiles into the kiss, pulling her as close to him as she can get.

Despite the firestorm that is her life right now, she’s thankful for this moment, for whatever bits of happiness she can find in the midst of it all. And though there’s a pit in her stomach about what’s to come, knowing that Chase will be by her side, loving her, makes it all more manageable.

… … …


	9. just how fast the night changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "night changes" by one direction.
> 
> { I own nothing }  
> & any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show and is credited to the writers. :-)

… … …

They spend the rest of the morning laying around, cuddling and kissing and talking and just enjoying one another’s company. He can’t remember the last time they spent this much time alone, just the two of them, without Jaxon sleeping in the next room or crawling at their feet. And as much as he loves that little boy and, honestly, kind of misses him, he can’t deny that he loves being able to focus their attention solely on each other, without any distractions.

What he really wanted was to lay in bed with her all day, telling her (and showing her) over and over again how much he loves her. But through their conversations, he was finally able to convince her that it was time to let Michael in on the Shiloh scenario. She’s starting to realize that there are a lot of people in her life that she can trust, and she doesn’t need to keep secrets anymore, not when her secrets are so crucial to bringing Shiloh down for good.

So they finally get up and get dressed, and he calls Michael while she cooks breakfast for the three of them. He tries to pick up the place a little, make it look presentable for company, and he’s struck by how _normal_ this all feels. Despite the very serious, very heavy conversations they’ve had and the way things have undoubtedly shifted between them, it also feels like nothing’s changed at all, and the thought makes him smile contentedly.

He hoped it might be easier, hearing her story a second time as she relays it to Michael. And while it helps that she’s less emotional this time, hearing about what Shiloh did to her… it still makes his blood boil and his fists clench. He paces his living room as she speaks, trying to release some of his energy so he won’t use it to put a hole in the wall. By the time she’s finished, he can tell that Michael is having a similar reaction.

“So that’s what this… _ceremony_ is about,” he says in disgust.

“You have to get Kristina out of there,” Willow pleads, placing her mug on the coffee table, turning her body to face Michael where he sits in the chair across from her. Chase finally takes his seat beside her, his hand settling on her back to steady her. “She doesn’t have to go through the same thing I did.”

Michael leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She’s so wrapped up in Shiloh’s bullshit that I’m not sure anything we say can snap her out of it.” He sighs, frustrated. “And even if we could, he’s coerced some sort of ‘pledge’ out of her, which sounds like some kind of tool he can use for blackmail if she leaves the fold.”

“That’s exactly what it is,” Willow confirms, nodding, and Chase feels his stomach clench at how well she knows Shiloh and his tactics. “But he would never actually release the pledge. He prefers to use it as leverage.”

“Which is just as bad, because even if Kristina believes the truth, I can guarantee you her pledge is about our dad, and she would be terrified that he would be arrested.”

Chase winces at the reference to Sonny’s _alleged_ criminal activities. “Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that,” he mutters.

Michael ignores him. “I think the only way Kristina would listen is if she heard the story from you, Willow,” he insists. “If I could find a way to get her alone with you…”

Willow sighs, and Chase can sense her frustration. He runs his hand across her back comfortingly. “I would love to do that, Michael, but if Shiloh ever found out…”

“As much as we want to help you, Michael,” Chase interjects, “any plan that puts Willow in Shiloh’s crosshairs is not an option. You’re forgetting that we have to think about Jaxon, too.”

Willow’s hand falls to his knee, squeezing gratefully, and he threads his fingers with hers. He doesn’t want Shiloh anywhere near her, for any reason, and she doesn’t need to be part of anything that puts her even more on his radar than she already is. He’s prepared to protect her any way he has to, but he would prefer _not_ to have to.

Michael nods reluctantly. “Look, my family… we have resources,” he reminds them. “I have mine, of course, but my father has his own resources, and he would gladly do anything to protect you and Jaxon, if you were willing to help his daughter.”

Chase opens his mouth to interject again, but Willow puts a hand on his chest to stop him. “Let me think about it, okay? I’ll consider it.”

He wants to protest, but he keeps his mouth shut, knowing that this is Willow’s decision, not his. Despite the fact that it makes his stomach clench with dread and his throat close up in anxiety, he knows that when it comes to this situation, Willow doesn’t need him to tell her what to do; she needs him to support her in whatever decision she makes, regardless of how he feels about it.

Michael exhales. “Thank you, Willow.”

She nods, then sighs. She looks over at Chase, and he squeezes the back of her neck. “Speaking of Jaxon, it’s getting close to lunchtime, and I should probably go get him out of Lulu’s hair,” she jokes half-heartedly.

Back to reality, he muses. He wishes they’d had more time in their little bubble of perfection, but talking about all of this with Michael has effectively shattered any hope of that. “Okay,” Chase sighs, walking her toward his door. “Call me when you get home, okay?”

She smiles sweetly up at him. “I will.” She presses up on her toes to kiss him. “I love you,” she murmurs against his lips.

“Love you, too,” he murmurs in return, unable to keep the smile off his lips. He kisses her again, then opens the door before he finds a reason for her to stay.

He almost forgets Michael’s there until he locks the door behind her and Michael clears his throat. “So, uh… you two are saying that now, are you?”

There’s a teasing grin on Michael’s face, but to be honest, Chase isn’t in the mood for his teasing right now. Not when he’s pretty sure his friend has some kind of feelings for his girlfriend. He needs to have this conversation with him before his thoughts get out of hand.

“Listen, Michael.” Chase takes his seat on the sofa, turns to face his friend. “I know you have feelings for Willow.”

Michael reels back in shock, chuckles in surprise. “What?”

Chase resists the urge to narrow his eyes and interrogate his friend. Their previous conversation sent him into detective mode, and he needs to pull himself out of it before he unnecessarily escalates this situation. “I know you asked her out a few times, back before we were together,” he reveals.

Michael tilts his head, considering. “Okay, yeah, I did.” He shrugs. “She’s beautiful, and I was drawn to her, yes. But she turned me down every time, and she told me she was seeing someone. I didn’t know it was you until you told me about her. But regardless, I backed off as soon as she asked me to.” He narrows his eyes in question. “I’m not really sure what the problem is here.”

“I guess I just want to make sure history’s not repeating itself,” Chase reasons. “I know our… relationships with Jenelle were years apart, but it just seems like we have a pattern of being drawn to the same women, so…”

“Look,” Michael begins, cutting him off. “I may have been attracted to Willow at one point, and yeah, I consider her a good friend now. And I’ll admit that her son sometimes reminds me of Jonah, and I like being around the two of them. But I also like being around the _three_ of you, Chase. I’m happy that you found each other. And I promise you that no matter how it started, whatever ‘crush’ I had on Willow is long gone.”

Chase exhales slowly. He feels a little bit ridiculous, because of course it’s been _months_ since any of that happened, and Michael has never given Chase any reason not to trust him. “I don’t know why I needed to hear that, but I did,” he chuckles, embarrassed.

“We’re all on the same side,” Michael reminds him. “We all want Shiloh to pay for what he did to Willow, to countless other women, and we want to protect Jaxon from his twisted influence. So just relax, okay? We’re gonna make sure you and Willow and Jaxon get your happily ever after.”

_Happily ever after_. Maybe it’s cheesy and unrealistic, but that does sound pretty damn good to him.

… … …

She’s not sure what she expected, after the whirlwind that was their weekend together, but she’s pleasantly surprised to find that not much has changed. If anything, now that they’ve cleared the air and been honest with one another, everything feels more settled, more secure. She feels like she’s in a better place, now, to fight Shiloh; to not only keep him away from her son, but to make him pay for everything he’s done not just to her, but to countless others as well.

She’s become accustomed to having her personal police escort to work every morning, and she loves having a built-in reason to spend time with Chase before her day gets crazy, especially when he’s working on a case. But things have ramped up at the PCPD lately, and with Chase working virtually twenty-four seven, she’s on her own this morning. She decides to stop into Kelly’s for a coffee, hoping the pit stop would calm her nerves for the conversation she needs to have with Principal Schultz today. She has a sneaking suspicion it won’t end the way she wants it to.

She almost does a double-take when she turns away from the bar at Kelly’s and spots a familiar face at the table right in front of her.

She clears her throat, anxiety settling there as she inches toward the table uneasily. “Harmony?”

Her mother looks up from… whatever she’s working on, and smiles ever so slightly. “Hello, Kali,” she greets, resting her elbows on the table in front of her. There are various notebooks and DOD material scattered on the table in front of her. Still hooked, of course. “What a nice surprise.”

Willow clears her throat again, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s, um… it’s Willow now,” she corrects her. “Willow Tait.”

Harmony shakes her head, sighs in disdain. “I heard that,” she admits. “I don’t think it suits you, honestly.”

“it’s not as if Harmony is your given name,” Willow retorts, crossing her arms over her chest.

Her mother hums her assent. “Fair enough,” she says calmly. She gestures to the chair across from her. “Won’t you join me?”

Willow doesn’t move. Something about the tone of her mother’s voice, the way this conversation sounds eerily similar to her recent encounter with Shiloh, has turned her attitude from uneasy to angry. “What are you doing here, Mom?” she demands.

Harmony’s façade cracks, just slightly, at the reminder that Willow is her daughter. Then she smiles, her calm demeanor back in place. “I’m helping Shiloh expand the Port Charles chapter of Dawn of Day,” she reveals. “He asked me to move from Beecher’s Corners to help him, now that this chapter has grown so much.”

“Did he ask you because he wants your help with DOD,” Willow asks, “or because he wants your help to bring me back in?”

Harmony’s eyes harden subtly, and Willow knows she struck a nerve. “You’ve made it pretty clear you’re not willing to rejoin us,” she answers tersely.

“Maybe so,” Willow muses with a smirk. “But Shiloh still believes I can be ‘saved,’ and he brought you here to try to tug at my heart strings, didn’t he?” She checks her watch. She’s got time, so she sits down across from her mother. “What’s the matter, Mom?” she taunts. “You always loved that he considered me his most promising protégé, didn’t you? You were just _oh so willing_ to hand me over to him, to let him _have his way_ with me, weren’t you?”

“Stop it,” Harmony snaps, her eyes flashing. “Joining the Trust is an honor that was bestowed upon you.”

“Admit it, Mom,” Willow insists. “You handed me over to Shiloh to gain favor with him, and you couldn’t stand the fact that he continued to favor me over you.” She leans back in her seat, crosses her arms across her chest. “He pushed you aside when I left, didn’t he? And you’re here now to try to pull me back in, to prove your worth to him.”

“I’m here for the good of the organization,” she says unconvincingly. It sounds robotic, hollow, not emboldened and passionate like it used to.

She’s cracking.

Willow leans in, lowers her voice. “Do you really want to be Shiloh’s puppet for the rest of your life?” she asks. “Do you want to be controlled by his influence forever? Because there’s life on the other side of DOD, Mom. There’s freedom.”

“True freedom comes with enlightenment,” she recites. Again, robotic. Hollow.

“I know you’re smarter than this,” Willow insists. “You can walk away, Mom. And when you’re ready, I’ll help you do it.”

She doesn’t stick around to hear any more of Harmony’s talk of ‘enlightenment.’ It’s enough for her to know that her mother is beginning to see the chinks in Shiloh’s shiny armor, that she might be close to finally realizing - or really, acknowledging - the monster that he really is. She doesn’t know if they’ll ever be on the same team, not completely, but this is a good start.

She hopes she can be just as persuasive when she talks to Principal Schultz this afternoon.

… … …

It’s kind of weird, he thinks, how quickly he’s become accustomed to waking up beside Willow every morning. They haven’t spent a night apart since they first spent the night together last weekend, and he already notices how strange it feels to wake up in his own bed without her curled up against him, without Jaxon’s babbling coming through the baby monitor. But the PCPD has been working him overtime, and he worked an eighteen-hour shift yesterday, and with all of her looming anxieties, he didn’t like the idea of letting himself into her apartment at two in the morning.

Besides, it was kind of nice to take the morning for himself for the first time in a while; he went to the gym, went by Kelly’s for a coffee, called Finn to catch up. But he’s been texting her all morning, and her responses have been short, clipped. He knows she had a meeting with Principal Schultz yesterday, but she seemed optimistic about it. Surely she would have told him if Shiloh had shown up at school, wouldn’t she?

By the time he knocks on her apartment door, his mind has gone all the way to the worst-case scenario. So he’s really just relieved when she opens the door and proves that she’s safe at home.

He exhales, smiles. “hi,” he greets.

“Hey, you.” Her returning smile is forced, and it puts his guard up immediately.

“Bah!” Jaxon greets. He’s showing off his two new front teeth, standing up against the coffee table and holding up a wooden block toward Chase.

He can’t help the smile that stretches across his own face. God, he loves that little boy. “There’s my buddy.” He scoops him into his arms, tickling his little belly. Everything inside him softens at the sound of Jaxon’s laugh.

“He missed you yesterday,” Willow smiles, genuinely this time.

“He did?” Chase smirks, sets Jaxon back down on his feet, moves toward her. “Or _you_ did?”

She smiles coyly, shrugs. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

He hums, wraps his arms around her waist, leans in to kiss her soundly. “I missed you, too,” he agrees. “It was weird, waking up this morning without you.”

“Oh, don’t even lie,” she laughs. “You enjoyed sleeping in without Jaxon screaming at us through the monitor at the crack of dawn.”

He shrugs, smiling sheepishly. “Actually, I think that’s become my new favorite thing,” he admits.

Her green eyes soften, and she leans up to kiss him again. When she pulls away, her eyes stay closed, and she exhales slowly. “I really did miss you yesterday,” she says quietly. “It was… a lot.”

He furrows his brow in concern. “What happened?” he asks, tucking a stay hair behind her ear.

Willow sighs, takes a seat on the couch, and he follows, pulling her legs over his lap to keep her close. “You know I had that meeting with Principal Schultz yesterday,” she begins, and he nods. “Apparently, parents of multiple students are _really_ not fans of mine. I won’t be returning to PC Elementary next year.”

“He _fired_ you?” Chase asks incredulously.

Willow nods, running her hand over her face tiredly. “I’ll be unemployed once my contract is up in July. And,” she laughs humorlessly, “as if that weren’t enough, you’ll never guess who’s in Port Charles now.” Chase quirks his brow. “My mother.”

He exhales in frustration. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“Following Shiloh’s lead, now that the DOD chapter here has been so successful,” she says in disgust. Jaxon has made his way to the sofa and squawks for their attention, so she pulls him into her lap. “I ran into her at Kelly’s yesterday morning.”

“So she’s living here, then,” Chase concludes. “That makes everything more complicated.”

“Maybe not,” Willow muses. Jaxon lays his head sweetly against her shoulder, and Chase tickles the side of his neck, smiling when he giggles. “She seems like she might be cracking a little bit.”

Jaxon holds his arms out for Chase, who immediately pulls him into his arms, and Jaxon lays his head on his chest, his eyes drooping tiredly. “What do you mean?” he asks, running his hand down the little boy’s back.

“She’s not as… passionate as she used to be,” Willow says. “She says the same things that Shiloh says, but it doesn’t sound like she believes in them, not like she used to. I think maybe she’s beginning to see Shiloh for what he really is.” She smirks. “And I may or may not have provoked her just a little bit.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “That’s my girl,” he chuckles. “It must be hard, though, to see your mom again, after everything that’s happened.”

Willow sighs, and Chase takes her hand with his free one, tangles their fingers together. “It just feels like it’s one thing after another,” she admits, her voice wavering. “Like everything that can possibly go wrong is happening all at once. Shiloh’s here, my mother’s here, I got fired…” Her eyes fill with tears, and she struggles to fight them back. “It’s just a lot all at once.”

He squeezes her hand, and she meets his eyes. “Have I ever told you that you’re the strongest person I know?” he asks quietly.

She lets out a watery laugh. “Stop,” she protests.

“I’m serious,” he insists. “I’m in awe of you, Willow. I know the last six weeks or so haven’t been easy, but you have taken all of it in stride. You’ve handled everything that’s been thrown at you like a pro. But just remember that, even though I know you can, you don’t have to handle all of it alone, okay?”

He pulls her into his side, and her head comes to rest on his shoulder. He kisses her forehead, then kisses the top of Jaxon’s head where he’s fallen asleep. All of this uncertainty with Shiloh lurking around has just made it abundantly clear to him that he wants these two people with him for as long as they’ll have him, and he’ll do anything he can to keep them safe.

And he does mean _anything_.

… … …

When Michael first asked her to share her story with Kristina, she was apprehensive for more than a few reasons. As much as she wants to help Kristina and expose Dawn of Day for what it really is, there are so many ways it could blow up in her face. Willow’s main concern is that the closer she gets to DOD, the more she makes herself known to its current members, the closer she gets to Shiloh. And the closer she gets to Shiloh, the higher the risk that he’ll find out about Jaxon, and the thought of that makes her heart lodge in her throat.

But if she can prevent at least one woman from sharing her experience, from enduring the same pain and anxiety that she has, she knows she needs to do whatever she can to help. So she agrees, knowing that Michael will do whatever he can to protect her and Jaxon, should the need arise. (She tries not to think too hard about what ‘resources’ he might pull from his family to do so.)

Thankfully, Michael and his family have a head start. Turns out that following his conversation with Willow about her experience, Michael decided to take matters into his own hands, and his father immediately jumped on board. They were able to… ahem… “liberate” Kristina from DOD and get her the help she needs to begin her recovery. Sonny and Alexis have kept Kristina in a safehouse, and she’s already been mostly deprogrammed by her family and a licensed therapist.

It’s easier for Willow to tell her story, knowing that she won’t be met with the same kind of resistance as if Kristina was still knee-deep in Shiloh’s realm. For the first time, she’s able to get through her story without getting too emotional, while still relaying to Kristina the gravity of what she endured. It helps that she can tell that her story only confirms what Kristina already knew: that Shiloh can’t be trusted, and she needs to get out of DOD, as soon as possible.

“I guess what I’m really worried about,” Kristina says as the three of them are leaving the safehouse together, “is how I can just walk away and not be pulled back in. I mean, like you said, Shiloh can manipulate just about anybody to do just about anything. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to resist.”

“You are,” Willow insists. “Now that you can see him for who he is, you’ll be able to see it coming. It’s almost disgusting, once you’ve realized it, how every word out of his mouth is so insincere.”

“I’m just glad you _want_ to get out, Kristina.” Michael smiles, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side affectionately. “It’s good to have you back.”

Kristina smiles up at her big brother. “It’s good to be back. It’s good to feel like myself again.” She sighs, looking to Willow. “So… you said you want to take Shiloh down. I would love to help, I just… I don’t know how anything can bring him down at this point. Like you said, he has so many people in his corner that it would be almost impossible to turn everyone against him.”

Willow sighs. “I don’t know, either,” she admits. “I just know that after everything he’s done -and will continue to do, if no one stops him - there has to be a way to put him behind bars for life. And if enough of us come forward and tell our stories, maybe more and more DOD members will realize who Shiloh really is. So I guess that’s how you can help. Telling your story, when the time comes.”

Kristina tilts her head, considering. “What if… what if I could be more help from the inside?”

Michael narrows his eyes. “No. No way. You’re not staying anywhere near that sociopath.”

“Hear me out,” Kristina insists. “Willow’s right. Now that I know that almost every word out of Shiloh’s mouth is fake and contrived, it’ll be easy for me to see right through him. Shiloh trusts me. If I can stay on his good side, I can be, like, your DOD liaison. I can help take him down, from the inside out. I can maybe even turn DOD members against him from the inside.”

Willow exhales. As many times as Chase has told her how strong she is, Willow thinks Kristina has her beat by a landslide. “While that would be a good plan, Kristina, I could never ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask,” Kristina corrects with a smile. “Look, if what you’re saying is true - and I believe that it is - then we can’t let Shiloh anywhere near your baby. I’ll do whatever I can to help you do that. And, after everything Shiloh has taken from me, all the emotional stress and trauma this has caused… I will gladly help you take him down, just for my own satisfaction.” She nods, looks at Michael. “I’m ready. I can do this.”

Michael sighs. “If you’re sure this is what you want to do, I can’t stop you. Just… make sure Dad and your mom are informed, before they go even further than they already have to get you out.”

Kristina laughs in agreement. “Deal.”

As she calls Chase to tell him the good news, Willow’s almost overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude for the life she’s built here in Port Charles. It’s a life that she never dreamed she could ever have, full of more love and compassion and friendship than she ever hoped it would be. She’s determined to do whatever she has to do to keep it that way, for as long as possible.

… … …

He’ll admit that his stomach turns over just a little bit as he sneaks through her front door early Saturday morning. Even though he uses the key she gave him, and even though it’s for a good cause, he still sort of feels like he’s breaking and entering. Not a good feeling, being a cop and all.

But he pushes through it because he’s got plans. Plans to give Willow a day of rest and relaxation and appreciation for her first Mother’s Day weekend.

She hadn’t mentioned the holiday at all, and if he’s honest, he might not have even remembered it himself if he hadn’t just sent his own mother flowers to commemorate the day. But being that Jaxon’s still too little to give her anything himself, the least Chase can do is spoil her a little bit on his behalf. He’s sure she’ll want to spend the actual day with Jaxon tomorrow, but for today, he’s treating she and Lulu to a spa day while he entertains all three kids. (He knows it’s what Dante would have done, if he were here, and Lulu deserves all the appreciation she can get.)

Step one: undisturbed Saturday morning sleep.

He’s thankful that Willow is a heavy sleeper, because he wouldn’t be able to pull this off otherwise. He sneaks into her bedroom, manages to avoid the temptation to slip into bed with her and wake her up with a kiss, and snags the baby monitor, all without so much as a stir. He sighs in relief once her door is shut again. Perfect timing, too, because as soon as he sets the monitor down on the coffee table in the living room, he hears Jaxon stir in his nursery. Before the little boy can make too much noise, Chase tiptoes into the nursery to free him from where he stands in his crib.

“Hi!” Jaxon squawks, showing off his sweet, toothy grin and holding his arms out for Chase.

It still melts his heart, the way Jaxon’s already attached to him. He understands a little bit more now, why Willow was so concerned about his level of commitment. Jaxon relies on him in ways he never really thought a ten-month-old could, and he loves watching him learn and gain new skills every day. He can’t wait to watch him grow up, to see who he becomes as he gets older. While Chase will admit that it’s not something he’d expected for his life at this point, he can’t imagine his life without Jaxon in it. Ever. (Hopefully that bodes well for his future with Willow, too.)

After Chase changes Jaxon’s diaper, serenading him with a rehearsal for his upcoming Nurse’s Ball performance in the process, he sets him up in the high chair with some sliced bananas for breakfast while he brews a pot of coffee to have ready when Willow does emerge. It’s just now past eight in the morning, and he’s hoping she won’t be up for at least another hour, but he wants the coffee to be ready just in case.

(Also, he needs coffee if he’s gonna be chasing the little monster around all day.)

He’s got Jaxon sitting on the kitchen counter while he wipes banana residue off his face (and hands, and legs… might need a change of clothes at this rate) when he hears Willow stumble out of her bedroom. “Chase” she calls out in confusion.

“Mama!” Jaxon squeals, reaching his arms out for her as she approaches.

“Surprise,” Chase smiles, pulling her in for a kiss as Jaxon attempts to squirm out of Chase’s hold and throw himself off the kitchen counter toward his mother.

Willow quickly pulls him into her arms and blows a raspberry against his cheek, smiling when he giggles. She looks back to Chase, tilts her head. “What are you doing here? I thought you were working today.”

He smirks. “Thus, the surprise.”

He watches as her eyes drift to the display on the kitchen table, and everything in her softens. “Chase,” she breathes out. “What did you do?” There’s a giant bouquet of flowers - pink and purple carnations, her favorite - and a card addressed to her, which she quickly opens. Her eyes skim over the card, her head tilting to the side as Jaxon tugs her hair out of its ponytail. “Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy. Love, Jaxon.” She looks up at him, her eyes shining with emotion. “Chase.”

He shrugs, slipping his arm over her shoulders, pulling her into his side. “He’s too little to do it himself,” he jokes.

“Don’t downplay this,” she insists, turning her body to face him. Jaxon reaches his arms out for Chase, who pulls him out of Willow’s arms, and she takes the opportunity to wrap them around his waist. His free hand pushes her hair off her shoulder, then comes to rest on the side of her neck. “This is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.” Her voice wavers and she refuses to break his gaze. “I can’t believe you thought to do this.”

“You’re an incredible mom, Willow,” he says lowly, emphatically. He runs his thumb over her cheekbone to catch the tear that falls. “Jaxon is so lucky to have you.”

She shakes her head. “ _I’m_ lucky to have _you_ ,” she insists, and leans up to press her lips to his. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he smiles, kissing her again. “And you deserve to be appreciated all the time, but especially this weekend. So get some coffee and put on some comfy clothes. Lulu will be here in an hour.”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why is Lulu coming over?”

“She’s taking you to the spa for the day,” he reveals. He sets Jaxon down to crawl toward his toys in the living room. “I’ll keep the kids, and we’ll have takeout and a movie night when you get home.”

She sighs dreamily, closing her eyes as she snakes her arms around his neck. “Harrison Chase, you are an angel sent from above. What did I do to deserve you?”

He leans in and kisses her soundly. “I could say the same thing about you,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against hers.

“A whole day with three kids,” Willow mutters, chuckling. “You’re a glutton for punishment.”

“Yeah, well.” He kisses her again. “You’re worth it.”

… … …

As she’s leaving the spa, Willow tries to stay in her bubble of relaxation as long as possible. It was so nice to spend an afternoon just chatting with Lulu, not thinking about any of the demons that are plaguing her, and knowing that Jaxon was safe with Chase. She feels like she’s in a much better mindset to take on what’s ahead of them, but she doesn’t want to think about it just yet. So she takes the long way home, stops by the Floating Rib to pick up the takeout Chase ordered for them. Lulu’s already gone by her place to pick up her kids, so Willow can focus on going home to see her two favorite boys.

“Willow?”

She sighs. Consider her bubble burst. She turns around from where she’s standing at the bar, sipping a glass of wine while she waits. “So you’re calling me _Willow_ now?”

Harmony smiles hesitantly. “There’s a few things I’ve come to terms with since we last spoke.”

Willow crosses her arms over her chest, quirking her brow. “Okay, I’ll bite. _Enlighten_ me.”

Harmony’s smile fades and she swallows nervously. “I know about your son, Willow,” she says lowly.

Every muscle in her body turns to stone. She clears her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It all makes sense now,” Harmony insists. “I understand why you left. And Shiloh, he’s… you were right, about all of it. He doesn’t care about me at all.” Willow stands still as a statue, trying to comprehend everything her mother is saying. Harmony steps closer. “I need to get out, Willow,” she says desperately. “I know you want to keep him away from your son, and I want to help you do it. But I need your help.”

Willow narrows her eyes. “How do I know you’re not still part of DOD?” she asks skeptically. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Because I discovered something the other day,” Harmony says shakily. “Something I may have suspected before, but now that I know it’s true… I can never go back there.”

Willow sighs. “Harmony -”

“Lorraine.” Her mother shakes her head. “Please. That name… I can’t use it anymore.”

Willow swallows thickly. Her mother hasn’t gone by her given name in years - not since they joined DOD. That alone is enough to convince Willow that this is really happening, that her mother is really turning the corner. “What do you know?”

“Shiloh…” Lorraine swallows, pausing to formulate the words. “Shiloh killed your father.”

And the skepticism returns, because Willow knows what happened to her father. She doesn’t like to even _think_ about it, let alone talk about it, but she knows exactly what happened. Her father had already left DOD, but Willow continued to visit with him, despite both Shiloh and her mother’s protests. She and her dad had always been close, and sometimes she thinks she should’ve left with him when he quit. But then she was appointed to the Trust, and on the night of her initiation, she skipped a visit with her father to go through with the ceremony instead. The next morning, she found her father dead of an overdose in his hotel room.

She’s come to terms with it, mostly, the fact that she’s responsible for her father’s death. She knew he was struggling, and the fact that she chose Shiloh and DOD over him that night must have sent him over the edge. It doesn’t make it any easier to think about, especially knowing that she ended up leaving DOD anyway, but she’s come to accept the role she played in his suicide. It’s unnerving that now her mother is telling a different story.

She turns as her name is called to accept her takeout order, using the break in conversation to formulate a response. “Dad committed suicide,” she says finally. “I was the one who found him, remember? He overdosed.”

“With drugs that Shiloh has access to,” Lorraine insists lowly, her eyes wide and pleading. “It’s the same drug that he puts in the tea for the initiates.” She looks around, checking for prying eyes and ears, before she continues. “He wanted everyone to believe your father took his own life, but did you know that Shiloh was taken into custody that next day?”

Willow’s eyes widen. “He was accused of murder?”

Lorraine nods vigorously. “And one of the faithful _falsely_ stepped in and confessed to exonerate him.”

Her head is spinning so quickly she feels like she might faint. She leans against the bar behind her, taking a deep breath. “If what you’re saying is true - ”

“It is,” Lorraine insists. “I have evidence that can put him away for life. I just need you to help me get out, Willow. Help me leave DOD so I can help you keep your son safe.”

“I just…” Willow sighs in frustration. “I need some time to process this, okay? Just… keep a low profile for a few days. Gather what you can from DOD, and bring me some evidence to prove you’re not lying.”

Lorraine nods. “I can do that.”

All she wanted was a relaxing night in with takeout and a movie with her boys. But clearly, she has things she needs to think about, and now… now there are things that Chase needs to know.

… … …

Just when he thinks he has all the facts, that he knows exactly what they’re dealing with, the tables turn on him once again. If this were an official investigation, it would drive him insane that there are so many wild cards in play. Not only is Kristina now a double agent, but apparently ‘Harmony’ is a turncoat who has all the evidence they need to bring Shiloh down for good.

Talk about a twist in the story.

He tries not to focus too much on Willow’s story about her father, how she felt responsible for his death when she thought he committed suicide. He can only imagine how she feels now, knowing that the father of her child was the prime suspect in her father’s _murder_. And at the same time, now it seems that her mother has had a change of heart and wants to help her daughter instead.

All he wanted for her was a well-deserved relaxing Mother’s Day weekend, to escape from all the craziness of their life. He really didn’t think it was too much to ask, but clearly he was wrong.

“Do you really believe her?”

Willow looks up from where her head is resting on his shoulder as they lay together on the sofa. Jaxon was exhausted after chasing Charlotte and Rocco around all day and had already passed out by the time she got home. Chase was watching the Sox game and was prepared to put in a movie of her choice, but she unloaded the story of her run-in with her mother instead.

“I don’t want to believe her,” she admits. He runs his fingertips down her arm, listening intently. “Experience tells me that I shouldn’t trust a word she says. But my gut…” She sighs. “My gut says she’s telling the truth. It all makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Chase searches her eyes, considering. “I’ll be more convinced when she brings us hard evidence,” he hedges. “But yeah, I believe it could happen. But what I meant was… do you believe she’s had a change of heart?”

Willow bites her lip, breaks his gaze as she considers. “I’ve been without my mom for so long,” she says quietly. “Even when we were both in DOD, she hadn’t felt like my mom for a long time. After everything that’s happened, I had lost all hope that she would ever be my mom again. And now… it’s really hard not to want that back.”

Chase nods, presses his lips to her hair absently. “I get it,” he concedes. “But can we really trust that she’s turned away from Shiloh for good?”

Willow props herself on her elbow, looks down at him. She takes a deep breath. “I think… I think she wouldn’t have told me about my dad if she were still committed to Shiloh,” she says. “Whether or not I completely let her back into my life, into Jaxon’s life… that’s another story. But I think we can at least trust her to help us take down Shiloh.”

As skeptical as he is, he needs to trust Willow’s judgment on this one, and quietly prepare himself for the possibility that she’s wrong. Chase leans in to kiss her. “As long as you’re sure, let’s bring her in.”

Willow smiles, sighs. “I guess now all that’s left is to figure out the logistics.”

It’s one thing to contemplate their plan in theory, to dream about taking Shiloh down in the abstract. Putting their plan into action, and knowing Willow will likely have to be in the line of fire to make it happen, is entirely another thing. But he knows that if it’ll take Shiloh out of the picture for good, if it’ll keep Willow and Jaxon safe in the long run, it’ll all be worth it in the end.

… … …


	10. a day that doesn't come to the lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "when it comes" by tyler hilton.
> 
> { I own nothing }  
> & any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show and is credited to the writers. :-)

… … …

She’ll admit that she’s been living in somewhat of a fantasy land, hoping that maybe some mysterious outside force would come through and take Shiloh down without any of them having to lift a finger. But sitting here in a room with all the people who are part of their ‘movement’ makes it all too real that if Shiloh’s gonna go down, it’s going to take every single one of them to do it.

No pressure.

Once Kristina found out that Harmony - er, Lorraine - had left DOD, she requested that they all get together to discuss the logistics of how to get Shiloh into police custody. Chase had made it clear that as long as they could bring him in on legitimate charges, regardless of how trivial they may seem, they would have enough evidence from other crimes to hold him indefinitely. So the biggest challenge is how to get Shiloh arrested, legitimately, without any chance that one of his faithful followers could take the fall for him.

Though Willow is grateful that her mother has left DOD and wants to help their cause, she still doesn’t feel comfortable letting her all the way back into her life, especially with Jaxon to consider. So she was relieved when Michael and Kristina offered to host a meeting at the Corinthos house, which is secluded enough and so heavily guarded that no one would know they’re all together, and serves as fairly neutral territory for all of them.

“I think the biggest question we have to answer is how we can goad Shiloh into slipping up,” Kristina reasons. “He’s so careful to never say or do anything to incriminate himself, especially when witnesses are present. He’s too cognizant of his own public appearance.”

“Then we’ll have to catch him when he doesn’t know others are around,” Chase reasons. He runs his knuckles along the stubble that has collected across his jaw, scrubs his hands over his eyes to keep himself focused. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately, likely because _she_ hasn’t been sleeping well, and between her insomnia, his work schedule, and Jaxon’s recent hatred of bedtime, she can tell it’s all wearing on him. She resists the urge to touch him, to run her hand down his back comfortingly, and just listens as he continues. “I keep coming back to the idea that the easiest place to do this would be the Nurse’s Ball. We’ll all be there, and since it’s a community charity event, it should be easy enough to convince Shiloh to come.”

“I can ask him to be my date,” Kristina offers, and Willow is impressed by how well she hides her disgust at the idea. “He’s so happy that I came back into the fold that he’s practically begging me to join the Trust at this point. I can get him alone, and I can try to find a way to get him to incriminate himself while Chase is listening.”

Lorraine is shaking her head. “But you’re not part of the Trust yet, Kristina,” she reasons. “There are things you don’t know, things that he won’t tell you until you’re initiated.”

“But you are.”

Everyone looks to Willow, and she realizes that she said that out loud. Whoops.

“You’re part of the Trust,” she continues hesitantly. She’s been mostly quiet throughout the whole discussion, primarily because even the thought of having to face Shiloh in any capacity makes her want to throw up. She clasps her hands together tightly, trying to calm her nerves and keep them from shaking. “I know you left, but I also know that Shiloh would do just about anything to bring you back in, especially considering the secrets you’re keeping for him.”

Lorraine nods, considering. “I could show up alone, pull him aside, try to pull some information out of him.”

Michael nods. “Honestly,” he says, breaking his own silence, “I’m more comfortable with you being the one in the line of fire anyway, Lorraine.”

Willow winces. “Easy, Michael.”

“Sorry,” he shrugs, ironically unapologetic. “It’s true.”

“Listen,” Chase says decisively. “If this is going to work, we all have to trust each other. Once we get to the Nurse’s Ball, we won’t be able to have any contact with Kristina to keep her cover, and Harmony - er, Lorraine - will have to stay neutral, so Shiloh doesn’t think he’s been compromised. If you can’t trust everyone here and get on board, Michael, you need to say so now.”

“Relax,” Michael snaps. Willow leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and massages her temples as the beginnings of a headache bloom behind her eyes. “I get it. Forgive me if it’s a little hard to keep up with all the team-switching going on here.”

“Okay,” Willow interjects emphatically. “Everyone stop.” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and massages her temples as the beginnings of a headache bloom behind her eyes. Chase’s hand comes to rest on the small of her back, providing comfort and stability for her to continue. “Michael, we’re all on the same team here.”

“I know that,” Michael says in exasperation.

“Good,” Willow snaps, narrowing her eyes at him. “Then get off your high horse and be a team player.”

Michael scrubs his hands over his eyes tiredly, takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry. What do you need me to do?”

“I think that when I pull Shiloh aside, you need to be nearby to hear what he says,” Lorraine proposes. “Obviously Chase will be close by, too, but it’ll help to have another witness, since Chase’s testimony could be considered a conflict of interest.”

Chase nods, lifting his hand from where it’s been rubbing circles at the base of her spine, trying to ward away the tension creeping into her muscles. “That’s a good contingency plan,” he agrees. “Michael and I should be able to stay out of sight while Lorraine confronts him, and at the first sign of any confession, I’ll jump in and make the arrest.” He nods at Lorraine. “You think you can get him to say something incriminating?”

Lorraine nods. “There are a lot of things I know, a lot of secrets he and I share,” she says. “I’ll act apologetic, say that I want to return to the fold at DOD. Once he thinks I’m back in, it shouldn’t be hard to get him to say something. Anything.”

Lulu, who’s been quiet throughout the debate, finally speaks up. “I think Willow and I should stay put at our table,” she reasons. “I don’t want her near him at all, if we can avoid it.”

“Agreed,” Chase nods, and his hand falls to Willow’s knee, squeezing reassuringly. He meets her eyes, shining with reassurance. “You don’t have to do anything at all, okay? We can handle this.”

Willow nods, exhales slowly. “I just… I can’t thank you all enough for putting yourselves out on the line for me. And for Jaxon.” She fights back a wave of emotion, and Chase squeezes her knee again. “It’s more than I could ever ask, and I don’t know how I’ll ever repay all of you.”

“Just take care of your little boy,” Michael says quietly. “Making sure he grows up safe… that’s all any of us want from this.”

As terrified as she is of this whole situation, as absolutely nerve-wracking as the Nurse’s Ball will be, she has to believe that it will end with Shiloh behind bars for good. For her own sanity, she has to believe that this plan will work. The alternative is too devastating to bear.

… … …

In the days leading up to the Nurse’s Ball, he can count on one hand the number of meaningful hours of rest Willow has allowed herself. She’s so anxious that even when she does sleep, she’s tossing and turning, plagued by nightmares that wake her up in a cold sweat. Between her insomnia, his crazy work hours, and Jaxon’s current sleep regression - Chase is pretty sure the kid just senses all the tension around him and can’t settle himself - they’re basically running on adrenaline and lots of coffee by the time the day rolls around.

He’s leaning on the door frame of her bathroom, watching her intently as she finishes getting ready for the big night. She’s absolutely stunning in her brightly colored sequined dress, her freshly cut hair pulled back off her face, her eyes smoky with shadow. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, regardless of what she’s wearing, but tonight… _damn_. He’s gonna keep her close to him tonight.

For more reasons than one.

The nerves are radiating off of her; he’s surprised she isn’t physically shaking. She’s re-applied her lipstick at least seven times now, and she’s smoothing out her dress almost compulsively. It’s like she’s trying to prolong the process so she doesn’t have to actually leave her apartment.

“Hey,” he murmurs, settling himself behind her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. His hand falls to her hip, squeezes comfortingly, and she leans back into him. “You look incredible.”

She manages a small smile. “Thanks,” she whispers, and his lips fall to her bare shoulder, almost without his consent. “I feel like a nervous wreck.”

He hums. It’s not that he doesn’t understand her unease - tonight will either be the end of all her problems or… well, he’s not sure what will happen if their plan backfires. He’s choosing not to think that way, because he refuses to believe that the bad guy’s going to win this one. He’s spent all day reassuring her, and at this point, he’s sure she’s as sick of hearing it as he is of saying it. So he tries a different approach. “I have a surprise for you tonight.”

She sighs. “I don’t know if I can handle any surprises tonight.”

“Trust me,” he grins, his fingers digging into her side playfully, and she can’t help but giggle. “This is a good surprise. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.”

She quirks her brow, meets his eyes in the mirror again. “What have you got up your sleeve, Detective?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he smirks.

She whines as he pulls her closer against him, presses kisses against her neck, and he feels her whole body melt into his. “You have to stop, or I’ll call the whole damn thing off,” she warns.

As tempting as that is - romance has fallen by the wayside recently, with all the drama swirling around them - he sighs reluctantly, tearing himself away from her, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Fine,” he pouts. Jaxon’s staying the night with Charlotte and Rocco at the Quartermaines, thanks to a very generous Monica who volunteered to take on a ten-month-old on top of the rest of the kids in the family. Willow was reluctant to leave him, terrified of how the night might unfold, but Chase knows that she understands it’s for the best. He’s safe with the Quartermaines, and the two of them need to be free to give statements to keep Shiloh in custody, if all goes according to plan.

It will. It has to. He’ll make sure it does.

He takes a deep breath, leads her out of her bathroom and toward the front door. He turns her around to face him and leans down for a kiss, careful not to smudge her generously-applied lipstick. “I love you,” he reminds her.

“I love you, too,” she sighs.

“Whatever happens,” he says seriously, holding her gaze. “I’ve got your back. You’ll be safe, okay? I promise.”

She nods and exhales the last bit of tension out of her body, smiles a real, genuine smile for the first time in hours. “Let’s do this, Detective.”

… … …

She’s been hearing about the Nurse’s Ball basically since she moved to Port Charles, and as they walk the red carpet to enter the event, she’s pleased to find that it really does live up to the hype. Everyone who’s anyone in this town is here, dressed to the nines and mingling and whispering about one another, no doubt. The Metro Court is essentially unrecognizable, the ballroom decorated lavishly. She worried that she might feel out of place here, but with Chase on her arm, for the first time, she feels like she belongs.

Her relief is short lived.

The nerves she was feeling before they left her apartment are nothing compared to the full-on tremors that overtake her as soon as she sees Shiloh across the ballroom. Her vision goes a little fuzzy around the edges, and if it weren’t for Chase’s arm securely around her waist, she’s sure she’d be on the floor. He pulls her even tighter against him, and she clutches the lapel of his tuxedo like her life depends on it. (She’s pretty sure it does.)

“You’re safe,” he murmurs in her ear. “He can’t hurt you.”

She nods, pressing her face into his neck, hoping to disguise her mini-meltdown as a loving embrace with her boyfriend. She doesn’t want Shiloh to have any idea that he affects her the way he does. She takes a few deep breaths to steady herself, then kisses his cheek for good measure. She forces a smile up at him. “Give me a hint.”

He furrows his brow in confusion. “A hint about what?”

“Your surprise,” she whines, and she has to stop herself from stomping her foot like a five-year-old. She’s too impatient for things like this, and if it’s going to be as entertaining as he insists… well, she could really use the distraction right about now.

He chuckles lowly. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he sing-songs. “Patience is a virtue.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, pulling herself away from him as he smirks at her pout. “You’re mean.”

“Aww,” he laughs, pulling her with him toward the bar. “Poor baby. Let me get you a drink to redeem myself.”

“This better be the best surprise you’ve ever pulled in your life,” she threatens, threading her fingers with his and squeezing his hand playfully.

“You can count on that,” he smirks. “Champagne?”

“Why not,” she muses, a smile creeping onto her lips.

After all, if things go according to plan, this _will_ be a night to celebrate.

He leaves her at their table with Lulu under the guise that he’s going to the bathroom. She doesn’t quite believe him, and judging by the smirk on Lulu’s face, she knows exactly what Chase’s surprise is. She wonders if she’s the only one who _doesn’t_ know, and the thought makes her scowl in annoyance. The only thing that’s calming her anxiety - did she mention she _hates_ surprises? - is the fact that he already assured her she would be entertained, and he wouldn’t lie to her. (Would he?)

She’s certainly surprised when Lucy announces him as the first performer of the night, and when he appears on stage in a sequined suit jacket singing her favorite Chainsmokers song, she can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of her throat. She gets lost in the music - she knew he could sing, and she knew he could dance, but not like _that_ \- and when he pulls her up on stage, twirls her around, kisses her in front of everyone, she forgets about everything but the blinding grin on his face and the way her body fits against his.

She’s never been more sure than now, in this moment, that this man was made for her.

… … …

The look on her face when he pulled her on stage was _so worth_ all the extra effort it took to surprise her. He spent weeks pretending he had to work late so he could rehearse, making sure no one spilled the beans about his Nurse’s Ball performance the year before so she wouldn’t ask questions. And though it was a lot of work, the smile on her face as he twirled her around on stage… he’ll do anything to keep her smiling like that, for the rest of his life.

(He’s having more and more thoughts like that, about things like _forever_.)

When he emerges into the ballroom from backstage to thunderous applause, she greets him with a smoldering kiss that makes him want to carry her out of here, and he wraps his arms tight around her waist to keep her close. “I can’t believe you,” she laughs into his mouth.

“I’m just glad I was able to surprise you,” he chuckles. “I thought for sure someone would blow it.”

“I had no idea.” She kisses him again. “You’re incredible.”

His cheeks warm, and he follows his instinct, switches the attention back to her. “Thanks for playing along and coming on stage with me,” he smirks.

“How could I resist?” she laughs, her hands falling to his shoulders, running down his arms. “I was blinded by the sequins on your jacket.”

“Ha, ha.” He rolls his eyes, smiling. “You loved it, don’t lie.”

“Chase,” Michael calls, barely concealing his laughter, and they break apart as he approaches. Chase lets his hand fall to her waist, keeping her close to him as he shakes his friend’s hand. “Way to go, man. Nice moves.”

“Thanks,” Chase laughs. “I think it effectively lightened the mood of the night, don’t you think?”

“Speaking of,” Michael says lowly, and Chase squeezes Willow’s hip reassuringly as he feels her tense beside him. “Lorraine just called me. She’s not on the guest list, and she’s having trouble getting into the building. If any of us claim her, it’ll just make Shiloh suspicious.”

Chase lets out a long breath. He turns to Willow, who looks concerned, and leans in to kiss her quickly. “Go sit with Lulu and relax, okay? We’ve got this under control.”

Willow looks between the two of them uncertainly, but then nods, squeezing his hand as she moves back to her seat, downing most of her champagne in one go. He winces, but if it helps calm her nerves, he’s not going to argue.

He follows Michael into the hallway, exhales as soon as they’re out of earshot of the ballroom. “I’ll go claim her,” Chase volunteers.

Michael shakes his head. “Shiloh knows you’re here with Willow,” he reminds him. “He’ll know something’s up if you’re friendly with her.”

Chase sighs. “Well, you can’t claim her, either, being Kristina’s brother.”

“Maybe I can text Kristina to claim her,” Michael suggests.

“Shiloh knows Lorraine left DOD,” Chase argues. “If Kristina is associated with her, I’m sure he’ll be suspicious.”

Michael groans, running his hand down his face in exasperation. “Well, we have to figure out something,” he insists loudly.

“I know, Michael,” Chase snaps. “You freaking out is not going to fix anything.”

Michael exhales, hanging his head, hands on his hips, just as Lorraine comes around the corner and approaches them. Chase furrows his brow in confusion. “How did you get in?”

Then he notices the look on her face, concern mixed with panic, and dread settles in his stomach. “Shiloh saw me,” she says uneasily. “He asked Kristina to get me in. She said he wants to talk to me. I don’t know why, I just… I have a really bad feeling about this.”

She’s not the only one.

… … …

Chase’s performance was great, and it really did help distract her from everything going on behind the scenes tonight. She appreciates that Chase and Michael want to keep her as far away from Shiloh and whatever confrontation goes down as possible, but being out of the loop and uninvolved only heightens her anxiety.

She tries not to think too much about the fact that Chase has been in the hallway with Michael for almost half an hour. She sips her champagne, tries to enjoy the stage performances, chats absently with Lulu, but it’s not long before she just can’t sit still anymore.

“I’m going to the restroom,” she tells Lulu, moving to stand.

“I’ll go with you,” Lulu insists.

Willow puts her hand up. “I just… I need a minute,” she pleads. “The ladies’ room is right there. I’ll be okay to make it there and back on my own.”

Lulu rolls her eyes. “No stopping to talk to anyone,” she warns. “We don’t need you anywhere near Shiloh tonight.”

“I know,” Willow says, smiles weakly as she squeezes her friend’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Don’t worry.”

The ladies’ room is mercifully empty when she enters. She takes a deep breath, exhales. She leans against the counter, closes her eyes. Here, in the quiet, it’s easier to center herself, to remember why they’re doing this. Jaxon’s safety and well-being is her number one priority, and as long as Shiloh is anywhere near them, all of that is in jeopardy. And she’s already decided that she refuses to let him take her home, her life away from her, not again. So he has to be the one who leaves Port Charles, and the only way to make that happen is if he goes straight to Pentonville.

She opens her eyes, stares herself down in the mirror. She can do this. She can play it cool, make it through the evening. She takes a deep breath, sets her shoulders, and exits the ladies’ room.

Where she finds Shiloh waiting for her.

“Hello, Willow,” he greets, but it’s not his usual patronizing tone. No, this time he sounds agitated, almost angry, and she feels the hair on her arms stand up.

Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

“I have nothing to say to you, Shiloh,” she says firmly, moving to push past him.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he says lowly, his hand gripping her arm to stop her. “Because I have plenty to say to you.”

Panic ripples through her as his hand tightens threateningly around her arm. “Let go of me, before I cause a scene,” she says through her teeth.

“You do that,” Shiloh hisses lowly, “and I have people with eyes on your son who will make him disappear.”

Her whole body turns to ice, and she knows her poker face is shot to hell. _He knows_. She opens her mouth to protest, but before she can say anything, he’s pulled her into a corner, his grip on her arm almost painful. She’s sure she’ll have a bruise of his fingerprints as soon as he lets go. “Yes, that’s right, Kali,” he spits, his eyes alight with the power he’s wielding over her. “I know all about _our_ son. The child you’ve kept from me for the last year and a half.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she argues, but it’s shaky at best. Her voice won’t quite portray the confidence she needs it to.

His hand slams into the wall beside her head, and she startles. “You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about,” he seethes, his hand coming up to grip her chin forcefully. “How could you, Kali? What kind of person keeps a man from his child?”

She pushes both hands against his chest, but he doesn’t budge. Fear runs like ice in her veins as she attempts to kick him, realizing that the restricting nature of her dress won’t let her. She swipes at his arm, attempting to dislodge his hand from her face, but all he does is use his other arm to pin her against the wall.

“You thought you could hide him from me,” Shiloh says lowly, his teeth clenched menacingly. “But you were wrong, Kali. I know where he is, and I’m taking him with me, to a place where you’ll never find him. It’s time you know how it feels, to have your child kept from you.”

Terror surges through her, and she knows all too well how easy it would be for him to make that happen. Hell, it could already be happening as they speak. “You don’t deserve to know him,” she retorts, her voice high in panic, her breath coming out in pants as his arm moves up to close off her airway.

“You _bitch!”_ Shiloh roars.

And then, just like that, he’s gone.

She takes a deep breath in, her hands coming up to her neck in relief. Her eyes meet her mother’s then, and she vaguely registers a commotion in her peripheral vision involving Michael, Chase, and Shiloh. “Willow,” Lorraine breathes out, her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Willow nods, her eyes moving between the scene happening in the hallway and her mother’s concerned face. “How did you -”

“We came back to the table,” Lorraine explains. “Lulu was worried that you hadn’t come back, and then we came around the corner and heard Shiloh yell and Michael just snapped.”

Willow meets her mother’s eyes, panic setting in. “He knows,” she says frantically. “He knows about Jaxon, and he’s going to take him. He said he’s going to take him where I’ll never find him.”

“Damn it!” Chase yells angrily, and Willow startles, turning toward the turmoil. Chase is doubled over, his hands resting on his knees, and Michael is lying on the ground, holding his eye, which is rapidly swelling.

Shiloh is nowhere to be found, and her throat closes up in panic.

“Chase,” Lorraine calls, and Willow notes how unsteady her voice is. “Shiloh knows about Jaxon.”

“What?” Michael yells. He quickly pulls his phone from his pocket, presumably dialing someone at the Quartermaine mansion to check on her son.

Her vision goes hazy as she finally locks eyes with Chase, and all the anger drains out of him, replaced quickly with concern. In one swift motion, he’s in front of her, one arm around her waist to steady her, and the other hand on her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “Are you hurt?” he asks quietly, insistently.

“He knows,” she whimpers.

“Chase,” Michael says frantically. “Call the station and report a kidnapping. Jaxon’s missing.”

All of the sudden everything is blurry, her vision losing focus, her heart racing in her chest as those two words replay like a haunting echo in her mind.

Jaxon's missing.

Jaxon's _missing._

_Jaxon's missing._

And then her legs give out, and everything goes black.

… … …


	11. silence the voices that hurt you inside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "take on the world" by you and me at six.
> 
> { I own nothing }  
> & any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show and is credited to the writers. :-)

… … …

If there’s one thing Chase absolutely hates, it’s feeling helpless. And in this moment, he’s never felt more helpless in his entire life.

He’s beyond pissed off that Shiloh got away, and he’s even more pissed off that someone somehow made it into the Q mansion and got their hands on Jaxon, even with all the precautions they took to the contrary. He doesn’t understand how this happened, why Willow has to endure this heartache after everything she’s already been through. Is there truly no justice in this world?

After Willow finally came to and the paramedics tended to her injuries - mild, in the grand scheme of things, thankfully - everyone sprang into action. Michael followed a unit to the Q mansion to investigate what happened there, and Lorraine volunteered to accompany the search unit to provide any insight she might have into where Shiloh might seek refuge. Chase was itching to join the effort, to contribute in some way, but one look at Willow told him that he was exactly where he needed to be, and he accompanied her to the station instead.

She sits in his chair at his desk in the squad room, his jacket around her shoulders. He doesn’t think she’s moved a muscle, hasn’t even blinked, in the hour since they got here. He passes the time alternating between squeezing her hand and checking his phone for updates. Every instinct in his body screams against the helpless feeling in his chest, urges him to take action, to _do something_. But Willow needs him right now, and with all she’s endured tonight, he can’t bear to leave her side. If she were more responsive, he’d feel better about going into the field, but her silence is absolutely terrifying to him, and he’s afraid to leave her alone in this state.

He sets a steaming mug of tea down on his desk and pulls a chair around to sit in front of her. “Willow,” he murmurs. His hands come to rest on her cheeks, and her eyes meet his, finally. “Talk to me, please. Say anything at all.”

She inhales sharply, shakily, and she squeezes her eyes shut as he rests his forehead against hers. “What if we don’t find him?” she whispers.

“We will,” he insists quietly. “We will, Willow. I promise you.”

“I can’t lose him,” she whimpers brokenly, and his heart breaks as her tears finally fall, his hands wet where they still rest on her cheeks. “He’s all I have, Chase.”

“I know,” he murmurs, pulling her close to him. “I know, baby. We’re going to find him.”

It’s like every ounce of anxiety, dread, and fear she’s felt over the last few months catches up to her all at once. Her tears turn into sobs, her whimpers into wails. She clings to him desperately, her fingers digging into his skin so tightly he’s sure she’ll leave a mark, but he doesn’t care. He pulls her into his arms and stands, sitting where she was and holding her in his lap. She cries and cries and cries for what seems like eternity, until finally, mercifully, exhaustion takes over.

He’s not sure how long they sit there, Willow sleeping in his arms, before the door to the squad room opens and Michael enters, a bag of takeout from the Floating Rib in his hand. The corner of his lip quirks up at the sight of the two of them, and he sets the bag on Chase’s desk. “Thought you guys might be hungry,” he says quietly.

“Thanks,” Chase says quietly, running his hand down Willow’s back in slow circles. Her breathing is even, and ironically, despite the trauma of the night, he thinks this might be the best she’s slept in months. “Any update?”

Michael shakes his head. He sits in the chair Chase vacated, lets out a frustrated breath. “No sign of forced entry at the Q mansion, which means it had to have been someone familiar, someone the staff would have allowed to enter. But everyone’s been accounted for, and no one in the family has ever been associated with Shiloh or DOD.”

Chase furrows his brow. “So then what motive would someone have had to walk in, take Jaxon and leave?”

Michael shrugs. “The only thing I can think of is that someone was blackmailed. It’s not like the Quartermaines have any shortage of enemies and secrets.”

Chase’s phone rings just then, and he grabs it to stop the ringer, but not before Willow wakes and stirs in his arms. Lorraine’s name lights up the screen, and his chest fills with equal parts hope and dread. “Talk to me.”

“He’s at the docks,” she says quickly, and he hears the blaring of sirens in the background. “We’re on our way there now.”

Willow sits up, clutching the collar of his shirt, and he squeezes her hip reassuringly. “Does he have Jaxon?”

“I don’t know,” Lorraine answers. “I don’t know anything other than we’re going to intercept him at the docks, and if Shiloh doesn’t have him, then hopefully whoever does is bringing him there.”

“We’re on our way,” Chase answers, standing and taking Willow’s hand in his. He ends the call and turns to face her, taking both her hands in his. “I want you to stay here with Michael.”

“No,” she says frantically. “No way, I’m coming with you. I need to be there, Chase. I need to see him.”

“Baby,” he pleads. He moves his hands up to her cheeks, forcing her to look at him. “I don’t want you anywhere near this.”

“I don’t care what you want,” she retorts, and she’s not angry, but her tone leaves no room for argument. “I’ll stay out of your way, but I’m going with you.”

He sighs and looks up to meet Michael’s eyes, who nods. “Let’s go, then.”

He’s not sure what happens from here, has no clue how the scene will unfold. He can only hope that it ends up with Shiloh in custody and, most importantly, with Jaxon back where he belongs, safe and sound in Willow’s arms.

It will. It has to. After everything Shiloh has done… he won’t let that bastard get away. Not this time.

… … …

The ride in the squad car to the docks is quite possibly the longest eight minutes of her life. Even with the sirens on and Chase’s complete disregard for the speed limits, it feels like an eternity before they finally pull up behind a collection of at least five other PCPD squad cars. She’s practically vibrating with nervous energy - the fear, anxiety, and dread that have been her constant companion for the last few days are bubbling to the surface, and the only thing keeping her from curling into the fetal position is the hope that this is where she’ll see her son. This is where she’ll finally hold him in her arms again.

As soon as Chase pulls her from the car, he holds her wrists tightly in his hands, and his eyes bore into hers. “I’m going to scope out the situation,” he tells her. “I want you to stay back. Stay a safe distance away with Michael. Even if you see Jaxon, I need you to stay put, okay? I need you to be safe.”

Her eyes well with tears, and she nods. “Please, Chase,” she pleads.

“I know, baby.” His forehead comes to rest against hers. “I’ll bring him back to you. I promise.” He kisses her then, crushing his lips to hers, and when she opens her eyes, he’s jogging away from her, weaving between officers and cars until she loses him in the sea of people.

“What’s happening?” she asks Michael, who guides her with a hand on her back as they make their own way through the crowd. “I can’t see anything. Where’s Shiloh? Where’s Jaxon?”

All at once, they push through to the front of the crowd, and there he is, standing on the deck of the Haunted Star. Holding her son in his arms.

“Jaxon!” She cries, tears blurring her eyes as Michael wraps his arms around her.

“Remember what Chase said,” he murmurs in her ear. “We need to stay back here.”

“He has my baby!” she wails.

“Shhhh,” Michael soothes. “They’re going to get him, Willow. He’s going to be okay.”

There are Coast Guard boats lining the waterway in front of the yacht, and the lights from the squad cars provide a bright, eerie glow to the scene. She watches in horror as a line of officers forms on the dock, all of them pointing their weapons at Shiloh. At her baby. “David Henry Archer,” comes a voice through a megaphone, one that she quickly recognizes as Commissioner Ashford’s voice. “We have you surrounded. Surrender the child at once.”

Willow catches sight of her mother, then, as an officer pushes her forward, toward Shiloh and Jaxon. “Lorraine,” she whispers. “What is she doing?”

“Shiloh!” Lorraine calls. “It’s me. It’s Harmony.”

Willow watches as Shiloh smirks at her mother. “Don’t you mean _Lorraine_?” he sneers. “Don’t pretend like you’re on my side.”

“I am on your side, Shiloh,” Lorraine insists calmly. “I want Jaxon to be safe, just like I know you do.”

“She can’t keep me from my son,” Shiloh insists, his façade cracking under the pressure, his cool exterior quickly deteriorating. Jaxon fusses in his arms, and Willow can’t stop the tears that flow down her cheeks, a sob leaving her throat. Every instinct in her body is screaming for her to run to him, but Michael’s arms around her and Chase’s stern instructions remind her that she needs to stay where she is.

“You’re scaring him,” Lorraine calls, echoing Willow’s silent pleas. “Please, Shiloh. There’s nowhere left for you to run. I know you don’t want to hurt him.”

“I want to know him,” Shiloh says frantically, his eyes shifting wildly. “He needs to know his father.”

“Not like this.” Lorraine is closer to him now, her voice lower, but the air around them is so still, so silent, that Willow can hear every word. “I’ll make sure he knows you, Shiloh. I’ll make sure he knows all about you, about the kind of man you are. Just let me take him.”

Shiloh moves suddenly, backing away from Lorraine erratically, and Willow feels a sudden rush of terror, her fingers digging into Michael’s arm. “You’ll just give him back to her,” he protests. “She needs to know what it’s like.”

“She knows,” Lorraine insists, and Willow marvels, briefly, at how calm her mother’s voice is. “Don’t make Willow suffer at Jaxon’s expense. Let me take him, and I’ll keep him safe for you. I promise I will.”

There’s a pause, then, a moment where Shiloh and Lorraine exchange glances for what seems like eternity. Jaxon cries out, and her heart constricts in her chest. She holds her breath as finally, _finally_ , Shiloh moves toward Lorraine, slowly, hesitantly. There are words exchanged, so low that Willow can’t make them out, and then Shiloh finally transfers Jaxon into Lorraine’s arms.

What follows is a flurry of shouting and officers rushing to swarm Shiloh, and it all happens so quick that Willow loses sight of her son, which sends her into a complete panic. “Where is he?” she cries. “Let me go, Michael!”

“He’s right there,” Michael says calmly, pointing to the ramp from the boat to the dock, where Lorraine is carefully making her way off the boat. She watches with relief as Chase jogs up the ramp to meet her halfway and scoops Jaxon into his arms, hugging the little boy to his chest. Tears well in her eyes again, a sob escaping her throat as Chase weaves his way through the crowd, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

“Jaxon,” she cries, stretching her arms out for him, and Chase readily hands him over. She clutches her son to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks as Michael steps away and Chase pulls her tightly to his side, kissing her temple. Willow buries her face in Jaxon’s neck, kisses his cheek, lets out an audible sigh of relief as another wave of tears flood her eyes. “Oh, my baby,” she cries. “Mommy’s here. It’s okay,” she soothes, bouncing him as his cries settle into whimpers and he presses his face into her neck, his cheeks wet with tears.

“You’re safe now, buddy,” Chase murmurs, his voice raw with emotion as he runs his hand tenderly across Jaxon’s hair. “Mommy’s got you.”

Willow looks up at him, at the man she loves, the man who brought her son back to her. “Thank you,” she whispers, and he presses his lips to her forehead. “Thank you for keeping your promise.”

Chase wraps his arms around both of them, and she burrows into his embrace. “I love you,” he whispers, and she looks up at him again, a grateful smile on her lips. “I love both of you.”

When she finally pulls herself away from him, she catches her mother’s eye across the dock. She’s speaking to an officer, no doubt going through a debrief of the role she played in Jaxon’s rescue. And for the first time in a long time, she feels the warmth of a mother-daughter connection. It’s a feeling that she thought she might never feel again. It’s a moment of understanding, and Willow nods, silently thanking her mother for bringing her son back to her. Lorraine nods back, the corner of her mouth turning up in a sad smile.

And despite the trauma of the night, and the fallout that they’ll no doubt be dealing with for far too long after this, right here in this moment, she feels like maybe everything’s going to be okay. Her heart is so full she wonders if it might explode in her chest, and she has a fleeting thought that despite what it took to get them here, that maybe, just maybe, it’ll all be worth it in the end.

… … …

The hours that follow are a complete blur of taking the next step, doing the next thing. They’re transported to GH so Jaxon can be checked out, though he seems unharmed for the most part. Valerie takes their statements about the incident at the Nurse’s Ball as well as the standoff at the docks, and Commissioner Ashford reassures them that between the night’s events and the reopening of the investigation into Douglas Miller’s death, Shiloh will be held in Pentonville without bail for the foreseeable future.

He hasn’t even really had time to process everything that’s happened tonight, and he’s sure Willow hasn’t, either. Jaxon’s resting comfortably in a crib in his own private room at GH¾they admitted him for overnight observation, but after thoroughly examining the little boy, Finn assured them that it’s just a precaution and that Jaxon is completely unharmed. It’s not until the dust finally settles and Willow has changed out of her dress and into the sweatpants and t-shirt that Lulu brought her that he catches sight of the bruises forming on her neck.

He doesn’t remember much about the altercation at the Metro Court, not after he saw that bastard with his hands on Willow. He knows Michael grabbed him, tackled him, attempted to restrain him, and that somewhere in the shuffle, Shiloh managed to break free and escape the scene. But the one thing he vividly remembers, the one thing he’ll never forget, is the look in her eyes when he finally looked up at her. Fear. Panic. Dread.

He’s spent the last several hours distracted by the stress of finding Jaxon, but now that Shiloh’s in custody and the fog of fear has lifted, there’s nothing left to distract him from his anger.

She’s standing at Jaxon’s bedside, running her fingertips along his arm while he sleeps. As her arm moves, the sleeve of her t-shirt rides up to reveal the distinct mark of a handprint around her bicep, and his fists clench involuntarily.

He stands from his chair in the corner of the room and makes his way over to her, gently pulling her into his side so he doesn’t startle her. She turns her body to face him, a small smile tugging at her lips, and his hands come to rest gently on either side of her neck, his thumbs tracing the streaks of purple and yellow forming there. A noise comes from the back of his throat, low and angry, and she sighs. “Chase,” she murmurs.

“He hurt you,” he says lowly.

She shakes her head, lets out a breath that sounds a lot like resignation, and it makes his blood boil in his veins. “It doesn’t matter,” she insists, pulling him in for a kiss, and he responds immediately, crushing his mouth against hers.

“He had his hands on you,” Chase mutters angrily. “Of course it matters.”

She rests her hands on his cheeks to keep his gaze. “I’m okay,” she says emphatically. “I promise. Jaxon’s safe, and Shiloh’s going to prison, and that’s all that matters to me right now. Everything else is irrelevant.”

She wants him to ignore the budding bruises on her arm, along her collarbone, around her wrists. And since they make him want to break Shiloh in half, he supposes he needs to ignore them, at least for now. He rests his forehead against hers, closes his eyes, wraps his arms around her waist to keep her close. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

“For what?” she asks, her voice calm and soothing.

“I promised you’d be safe,” he reminds her, shaking his head. “I promised he wouldn’t hurt you, and he did.”

“Chase,” she murmurs, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “ _It doesn’t matter_.”

He exhales. He doesn’t believe her, and he doesn’t agree with her, but it’s been a long night and the last thing she needs right now is an argument. So he just holds her close until his heart rate goes back to normal, until her breathing evens out.

He pulls away then, kisses her forehead, sweeps her hair off her shoulder and out of her face. “I’m gonna go talk to the Commissioner, see if there’s anything else they need from me.”

Willow nods, and he kisses her again, murmuring that he loves her against her lips, before he exits the room. Commissioner Ashford is still standing in the hallway, along with Michael and Lorraine and Finn and Lulu and various other concerned friends and family who came to check on them in the aftermath.

“Chase,” the commissioner greets, placing her hand on his shoulder. “You did well tonight.”

He smiles politely. “You and I both know I did nothing, but that’s okay. Just wanted to come see if there’s anything I can do to help with the investigation.”

“You’re off-duty,” Commissioner Ashford insists, shaking her head.

“This is my case, Commissioner.”

“Not right now, it’s not,” she says firmly. “You were personally involved in the incident tonight, and while I know you did everything by the book, like you always do, your… involvement with the victims presents a conflict of interest.”

“There are other charges we need to file -”

“I’m well aware, Detective,” she retorts. “We have statements from Lorraine Miller and Kristina Corinthos-Davis, and the DA is prepared to subpoena the woman from Beecher’s Corners who took the blame for Douglas Miller’s murder. We’re getting the FBI involved to investigate Dawn of Day and all related activities.” Commissioner Ashford sighs. “We’ve got it under control, Chase. We’re not going to let him get away this time. So what I need you do now is go be with Willow and Jaxon. Take them home, when he’s released. Get some rest, and come back in a few days, when you have a clearer head.”

“A few days?” Chase balks.

Michael claps a hand on his shoulder. “It sounds like they’ve got it handled,” he agrees. “You deserve some time off to rest, Chase. The three of you have been through hell the last few months.”

Chase sighs, nods reluctantly. At least he knows the PCPD is aware of the depth and breadth of the situation, and he can leave the investigation in their capable hands, at least for the time being. “Under no circumstances does he leave the PD unless he’s going to Pentonville,” he says firmly.

Commissioner rolls her eyes. “I don’t take orders from you,” she reminds him. “But on that front, I’d say you have nothing to worry about. Go home, Chase.”

She doesn’t have to ask him twice.

… … …

She can’t say it’s been an easy few days since the Nurse’s Ball. Between the nightmares and the (literal) pain in her neck, she’s hardly slept at all, and despite Chase’s constant presence and the levity that Jaxon lends to any situation, she has a hard time keeping the fear and panic at bay.

After a night in the hospital and a good night’s sleep, Jaxon bounced back as if nothing happened at all. He’s his usual happy, active self, and she supposes that’s a silver lining in all this - that the despite the trauma he endured, he won’t consciously remember any of it. She envies him, honestly. She wishes she could put that night in her past and move forward, especially now that Shiloh is behind bars for good.

But he knows. He knows that she has a son, and what’s worse, he put the pieces together and figured out that Jaxon is _his_ son. While some of her nightmares are flashbacks to his assault on her at the Nurse’s Ball, most of them revolve around Shiloh escaping custody, one way or another, and coming after her son. Just the thought makes her throat close up in panic.

“Willow,” Chase calls, turning her to face him from where she stands at the kitchen sink. He turns the faucet off. “You haven’t washed a single dish in the last five minutes.”

She tries to speak, but she can’t seem to force any air into or out of her lungs, and Chase immediately recognizes what’s becoming a familiar situation: a panic attack. “Breathe, Willow,” he reminds her, and her knees give out. He lowers them both to the ground, props her up against the kitchen cabinets, rests his forehead against hers. “Breathe in, breathe out.”

She focuses on breathing with him, tries to ignore the tunnel vision that’s beginning to set in and the way her heart is hammering against her rib cage. Finally, after what feels like hours, she feels the panic begin to subside. Her heart rate slows down, her lungs fill with air, and her vision clears. Almost immediately, tears of frustration fill her eyes, and Chase pulls her into his arms. “Why do I feel this way?” she asks desperately.

Chase sighs, his eyes pained as they meet hers. “What do you need?” he asks. “What can I do to help you feel better?”

“I need to know that he’s not coming back,” she says quickly. It’s been three days, and no one seems to want to give her any kind of update on the situation.

Chase nods. “Commissioner Ashford called a little bit ago,” he tells her. “They subpoenaed Carol Lockhart from Beecher’s Corners, the woman who confessed to killing your father so that Shiloh could go free. She corroborated your mother’s story, which also serves as her alibi, since she was part of your initiation ceremony.” Chase makes a face in contempt, but continues. “Your statement and your version of the initiation ceremony matches up with your mother’s and Carol’s stories, and Kristina confirmed she was also drugged with some kind of tea at her initiation, just like you said. Your mother also gave up years of documentation that show a complete record of Shiloh’s crimes - fraud, extortion, sexual assault… you name it, he’s done it.” He cups her face in his hands, and she breathes out a sigh of relief. “It’s over, Willow. It’s really and truly over.”

“What if he makes bail?”

“He won’t,” Chase insists. “Not after the stunt he pulled with Jaxon and the way he assaulted you at the Nurse’s Ball.” He ghosts his fingers over her collarbone, over the bruises on her neck, and she takes a deep breath. “Since he’s considered dangerous to you and Jaxon, the judge voted to hold him without bail.”

“It’s over,” she breathes out. “It’s really over.”

Her forehead falls to Chase’s chest, and he rests his hands on her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “He can’t hurt you anymore. And this time, that’s a promise I know I can keep.”

She looks up at him, meets his eyes as he smiles comfortingly. She leans in to kiss him, slowly, gratefully. “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me. For us.”

He kisses her again. “I would do it again, a million times over, if it meant you and Jaxon would be safe.”

Shiloh’s reign of terror may be over, and she may be free of him forever, but she still doesn’t feel like she has the closure she needs. As grateful as she is that Shiloh is behind bars, that he’ll be there for the foreseeable future - likely for the rest of his life - she knows that there’s only one way she’ll be able to let go of this, once and for all.

… … …

He tried to talk her out of this. Really, he did, and not just because he doesn’t ever want to see that bastard’s face again. Honestly, he doesn’t know what good it will do her, coming face to face with him again. After everything he’s done, Chase would’ve thought she’d be happy to forget all about him, especially with virtually no chance he’ll ever see the light of day again. But she insisted, because she believes this is the only way for her to put it all behind her.

He doesn’t agree, but if it’ll keep her panic and anxiety in check, he’ll do whatever she wants him to do.

“You don’t need to do this,” Chase reminds her for what feels like the hundredth time since they left her apartment this morning.

“Chase.” She turns to face him, her eyes clear, her shoulders square. “I know you don’t understand. I’m not sure I fully understand, either, to be honest. But I need to do this. For me and for Jaxon. I have things I need to say to him.”

She looks stronger, more confident than he’s seen her in weeks, and that’s something he definitely can’t argue with. So he kisses her, whispers that he loves her against her lips, and follows her into the visitation room. He’s grateful that she chose to do this from behind the glass, because he doesn’t know if he trusts himself to stay calm when Shiloh opens his mouth.

He sits down beside Willow just as Shiloh emerges through the door, escorted by an armed guard. He’s pleasantly surprised when Willow doesn’t even flinch as he smirks at her, picks up the red phone to speak to her. “Well, this is a nice surprise,” he says, his voice ringing loud and clear through the phone.

“Shut up,” Willow snaps, and Shiloh’s eyes flash with anger. “I’m not here to listen to you babble. I have things I need to say to you, and you’re going to listen.”

She takes a deep breath, and Chase watches in awe as she meets Shiloh’s eyes, her resolve stronger than ever. “Yes, I had your child,” she tells him. “I have a beautiful son who deserves all the best things this life has to offer him. And even though he’s the result of the disgusting things you did to me, he’s still the best thing that ever happened to me. He’s the light of my life. And you will _never, ever_ know him.”

Chase watches as Shiloh’s mouth twitches, his whole body rigid with anger. “You did this to yourself, Shiloh,” she continues. “You’re an egomaniac, and a sociopath, and you’re the most despicable person I’ve ever known. And it’s your own fault that you will never know your own son. You have no one to blame but yourself. _You_ can live with that for the rest of your miserable life in prison. But I won’t live with those things, and neither will my son.” She smiles. “Goodbye, Shiloh.”

She hangs up the phone, and she doesn’t react at all when Shiloh stands from his seat, pounding on the glass, yelling obscenities at both of them. She just stands up, takes his hand, and together, they leave Shiloh behind them, once and for all.

… … …


	12. epilogue // the sound of a million dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from "the sound of a million dreams" by david nail.
> 
> { I own nothing }  
> & any dialogue in italics comes directly from the show and is credited to the writers. :-)

… … …

Willow wakes up on the morning of Jaxon’s first birthday with a smile on her face and a heaviness in her heart. She really, truly can’t believe this day is here, that her baby boy is a whole year old. It’s been the longest, hardest, and yet the best year of her entire life, and after everything that’s happened, she’s so thankful that she gets to spend the day with him, and with all the people who love him.

Chase is long gone for the early shift at work, which he managed to trade for his scheduled late shift with Valerie so that he could be home in time for Jaxon’s party later. He could have taken the whole day off, if he really wanted, but he wanted to give her and Jaxon some time to themselves, wanted to give Willow the space to be a little emotional and cuddle with her boy. As much as she wants the three of them together at all times, she has to admit he somehow always knows what she needs before she does.

She tiptoes into Jaxon’s room and is startled to find him sitting on the floor, happily playing with his toys. His new favorite trick is climbing out of his own crib, and she’s pretty sure Chase just lowered his crib last week. Clearly, her clever little boy is going to give her a run for her money. “What are you doing, you little turkey?” she laughs, swinging him into her arms as he giggles. “You’re just growing up too fast, you know that?”

“Mama!” Jaxon squawks, and her heart melts in her chest. They’ve been trying to pry his first word out of him for months, and he finally spit it out a few weeks ago. _Mama_. The sound of It drove her to tears the first time, and every time since, it makes her want to snuggle him in her arms and never let him go. Unfortunately, he’s also mastered walking and has moved on to running, so he whines and kicks his legs, begging to be put down. She sighs and steals a few kisses on his chubby little cheek before she puts him down.

She follows his sweet little footsteps through the living room to the kitchen, and her heart melts all over again. There’s a stunning bouquet of her favorite summer flowers on the kitchen table, with a sweet note addressed to her that makes her smile. “Chase,” she murmurs, picking up her phone to call him.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

“When did you have time to get me flowers?” she teases.

“I have my ways,” he chuckles, and she can almost hear the smirk on his voice.

“They’re beautiful, Chase,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”

He hums. “Just wanted you to have something to make you smile,” he says. “Besides, today is just as much a celebration of you as it is for Jaxon. You’ve been through hell the last year, and you deserve to feel special today, too.”

She bites her lip, fighting back a wave of emotion, because only he would be so sweet as to think of it that way. Today is all about Jaxon, and she’ll make sure it stays that way. But if she’s honest, there were so many times over the past year when she wasn’t sure if they’d make it here. Between running from Shiloh, then hiding in Port Charles, then facing down Shiloh, and almost losing Jaxon forever, it’s nothing short of a miracle that they’re both here, unscathed, and probably the happiest they’ve ever been. If you had told her a year ago…

“And how is the birthday boy this morning?” Chase asks, interrupting her reminiscence.

“Well, he was sitting on the floor when I walked in his room this morning,” she sighs.

“You’re kidding,” Chase chuckles. “I just lowered that crib a week ago!”

“He’s too clever for his own good,” she laughs. She wanders into the living room, where Jaxon is perched on the couch, drinking milk from a sippy cup and watching a toddler TV show. She sits down next to him, runs her fingers through his auburn hair, and he hardly even glances in her direction. She smiles. “It’s a good thing he’s so darn cute.”

“Yes, there is that,” Chase smiles. “Guess I need to break out the tools when I get home.”

_Home_. The word makes her shiver happily, biting her lip to conceal her smile. Over the last few weeks, Chase has been steadily cleaning out his apartment and moving what remains into her place. His lease is up at the end of the month, and they’re at a point in their relationship where it feels right to take that next step toward commitment. There’s no longer any question about the nature of their relationship - it’s a forever kind of thing, for both of them.

“I still love hearing you say that,” she murmurs.

He hums lowly, sending a delighted tingle up her spine. “I still love saying it.” He clears his throat, and she stifles a laugh, imagining Valerie eyeing him in annoyance from across the desk. “I’ve gotta go,” he says. “Give the boy a birthday kiss for me. I’ll be home around lunchtime to help you finish prepping for the party.”

“You’re the best,” she smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he responds. “See you later.”

She tosses the phone onto the couch next to her, leans down to kiss Jaxon’s head, and he reaches up to hand her a sticky handful of cheerios from his bowl. She laughs and pretends to bite his chubby fingers, and he giggles delightedly. “How’d we get so lucky, bud?”

Jaxon babbles in response, and she chuckles as he climbs into her lap, spilling his bowl of cheerios as he goes. She blows a raspberry on his cheek, and he squeals happily, and she honestly could care less if all the dishes are done or the apartment is clean or if anything is ready for his party at all. She just wants to stay right here, snuggling with her baby boy, cherishing every precious moment with him. Because if there’s one lesson that she’s learning, it's that he’ll never be as little as he is today, and she wants to savor every moment while it lasts.

… … …

He looks around the living room of Willow’s apartment - _their_ apartment, now - and takes in the sight of so many people he loves, here to celebrate a little boy who’s captured all their hearts.

It’s hard to believe that there was ever a time when Jaxon wasn’t part of his life. It’s surreal, he thinks, to realize that a year ago, he didn’t know Jaxon - didn’t even know Willow. In such a relatively short time, those two have become the focus of his every thought, every day. They’re the first people he thinks about in the morning and the last people he thinks about at night. He can’t imagine his life without them, and it does his heart good to look around and see that so many others feel the same way.

Jaxon’s sitting on the floor, being endlessly entertained and catered to by a crowd of kids including Charlotte, Rocco, and his new best friend, Wiley. Lorraine is sitting on the couch, flipping through the album Chase gave Willow for Christmas, which is now full of sweet photos of the first year of Jaxon’s life. Finn and Anna are on the patio, chatting with Brad and Lucas, and Lulu and Willow are laughing in the kitchen as they put the finishing touches on Jaxon’s cake.

“Having a moment?”

Michael appears at his side, offering a cold beer, and Chase takes it gratefully. He takes a pull as he surveys the room and nods. “Just thinking, you know, about the last year. I mean, a year ago today…”

Michael winces. “Don’t remind me,” he insists. “All that work we did to get Nelle behind bars, and then she ends up being the one to kidnap Jaxon? It’s just a little too coincidental.”

Imagine their surprise when, just a few days after the showdown with Shiloh, authorities in Canada arrested Nelle Benson at the border, and the PCPD’s investigation led to a confession from someone on staff at the Q mansion that it was, in fact, Nelle who kidnapped Jaxon the night of the Nurse’s Ball. It’s still unclear how Nelle escaped, or how she became involved with Shiloh, but if she ever had any mercy from the court before, she certainly won’t now.

It’s also not lost on him that today is not only Jaxon’s birthday, but Jonah’s birthday as well.

“You doing okay today?” Chase asks, clapping his friend on the shoulder with his free hand.

“You know,” Michael sighs, “I’m okay. It helps that we have Jaxon to celebrate today, to take my mind off of Jonah. It still stings, and I’ll always carry it with me, but doing things like this…” he smiles as Jaxon giggles loudly while Charlotte tickles him. “It dulls the sting a little bit.”

“Good,” Chase smiles. “I’m glad. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He shifts his eyes to the kitchen, as Willow throws her head back in laughter at something Kristina said. “I’m going to go make sure I’m not needed.”

Michael nods, and Chase sneaks his way into the kitchen, pinching Willow’s hip as he sidles up behind her.

She squeals in surprise and jabs her elbow backward into his ribs playfully. “You’re going to ruin the cake,” she whines.

Chase chuckles, sets his bottle down on the counter in front of them, wraps an arm around her waist to pull her close. “I wouldn’t dare,” he says solemnly, and she narrows her eyes teasingly as she looks up at him. “You’ve done an amazing job, babe. Everything looks great.”

“Kind of silly, right?” She carefully adjusts the lone candle on his smash cake, which has been painstakingly decorated in various bright colors. “To put in so much effort to a cake he’s meant to destroy anyway?”

Chase shakes his head, kissing her forehead. “It’s all about the memories, right? We need another picture to add to his album.”

Willow hums, nods. “I saw Lorraine over there, looking at it a second ago.”

“He’s come to really love her recently,” Chase comments.

Willow smiles. “She’s so excited to be his nanny when I go back to work.” She sighs happily. “There’s just so much to be thankful for today,” she murmurs.

Chase pulls her a little tighter to him, kisses her cheek in agreement. He knows she’s talking about Jaxon, about her mom, about all their friends around them. Mostly, he’s just thankful for her, and for the little boy that she lets him love.

He has a moment, when they’ve turned off the lights and Willow is carrying Jaxon’s cake toward his high chair, when a single candle is lit and they’re all singing happy birthday, that he almost feels like he’s looking at someone else’s life. These are moments that he’s always pictured in his mind’s eye, moments that he always dreamed of experiencing, and now they’re his reality.

Yes, he thinks. He does have a lot to be thankful for. Thankful might even be an understatement.

… … …

She’s decided in recent weeks that her new favorite part of their day is right at the end of it. After Jaxon’s long gone to bed, after they’ve left their wine glasses in the sink, after they’ve changed into their pajamas. It’s the moments when they’re getting ready for bed together - when he bumps her hip with his to make her laugh as they stand at the bathroom counter, when she meets his eyes in the mirror as they brush their teeth and he waggles his eyebrows playfully, when he snuggles up behind her while she’s taking her makeup off and presses gentle kisses to her neck that tickle her skin. It’s those simple moments when she falls more and more in love with him - when she knows that she wants to spend the rest of her life having moments like those with him.

Tonight, she’s sitting on the bathroom counter, combing out her wet hair after a quick shower as he washes his face. He really is beautiful, she muses, watching as he leans in close to the mirror, scrubbing his face dry with a towel. He’s got a few days’ worth of stubble littering his chiseled jawline, and his pretty eyes sparkle with mischief as he rests his hands on the counter on either side of her, leaning in to kiss her slowly. “How are you feeling?” he asks quietly, his thumb stroking the side of her leg tenderly.

She hums, sighs. “It’s bittersweet,” she smiles, reflecting on the wonderful day they spent with their family and friends, celebrating her baby boy. “It’s so fun to watch him grow, but it’s sad to think that he’ll never be this little ever again. I’m just… soaking it all in, you know?”

Chase nods. “I know,” he murmurs, and he stands up straight, taking her hands in his as she sets her comb down beside her. “It’s crazy, because a year ago, I didn’t know you at all, and now…” he smiles, runs his thumbs across her knuckles, “I can’t picture my life without either of you in it.”

She bites her lip to conceal her own smile, and she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him in close. His hands fall to her hips, and his forehead rests against hers. “Have I ever told you about the night Jaxon was born?” she asks.

Chase hums, furrows his brow. “You know, I don’t think I’ve heard that one yet.”

“I was running,” she starts, and he swallows, remembering the stories she’s told him about her life before Jaxon. “And I was trying to find the next town to settle in, to make a temporary life for myself before I needed to pick up and run again. And I was driving past GH when my water broke.”

He grins. “A fortunate twist of fate, one might say.”

She hums. “Yes, I think I would say that.” She smiles. “And I just keep thinking… what if I’d been anywhere else? What if I’d taken a different turn, driven through a different town?” Chase locks his fingers together behind her back. “I’m so thankful that I took the one that led me here. To Port Charles, and to you.”

Chase makes a noise of protest, low in his throat. “You know, I’d like to think that one way or another, you would have ended up here,” he says. “I think…” he swallows thickly. “I think we were meant to find each other, someway. I think the three of us were meant to be a family, Willow.”

And as if she hadn’t already cried a thousand tears today, they’re welling in her eyes again, overcome with emotion because he’s right. This, what they have now… she was meant to settle here in Port Charles with Jaxon. She was meant to find this man, who loves her and her son more than she ever thought possible. She was meant to find peace from the ghosts of her past here in this small town.

She came here broken, scared, and alone. She had nothing, and now, she has everything.

She was meant to find her strength here. And she did.

… … …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! let me know what you think!


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